First things first, I want to say sorry to everyone for being a couple days late. I was out of town this weekend and was unable to access my documents in order to post. Also, I'm currently working on another story. It's another part of War of the Crests: a Side-Story that will play out alongside the main story. I hope to have chapter 1 of it out when chapter 5 of Light comes out. The plan is for it to be a real detachment from this story, with all-new characters telling their own stories, though its chapters will be released much more intermittently, as its events are tied to the events of the main story.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy chapter 4! The longest to date!
War of the Crests
Part 1: Light
-Chapter 4: Saturday-
A lot of people compare the sound of rainfall to the constant roar of an animal. Something primal and powerful. Davis thought the sound was closer to TV static—or rather, TV static's badass grandma. It was an annoying nuisance, but little more. Rain had never stopped him in the past, and it sure as hell wasn't going to stop him today.
At least yesterday we had sunshine, he thought. Yesterday had been fun. They met Ken and Yolei at the theater, and then skipped the movie and got lunch. Ken paid, like TK said he would, and it was like they were twelve again, like they were still digidestined rejoicing after a particularly good day destroying control spires.
Davis missed those days. And the rain today only reinforced how far away they really were. Regardless of how good the day was, how much fun they had, in the end they all went their separate ways. Yolei drove off with Ken, and TK and Kari left together after dropping Davis off at his house. It was like a class reunion, except they were all still going to school.
But that was life. He knew it, and he knew there was little he could do to change it. They were all living new lives, free of the digidestined chains. Davis was the only one who hadn't broken his.
As Starbucks came into view, he felt the shackles loosen a little.
He shook his hair out outside, under the eaves, and dumped out the water that had pooled in his goggles. He glanced inside, and didn't see Kimiko. He checked his cell phone. It was 12:07. He was late.
Don't freak, he thought. She said rain or shine. She'll be here. You're running late, and she probably is, too. She'll be here.
He walked inside, stomped any excess moisture off his shoes at the door, and walked up to the register. Ren, one of two guys that worked here, was standing behind it, eying Davis. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a damp wallet, and shelled out the cash for his regular.
"Make it tall, I'm saving my money," he said.
Ren nodded, took the cash, and made change before writing Davis's name down on a cup and passing it back. Ren was an older guy, didn't talk much. Davis liked him.
He sat at the bar and ran his fingers through wet hair. Remnant water droplets ran down the back of his neck and under his shirt.
"What a day, eh?" Eiko, the store manager, asked from the brewing station. Davis looked up. She was smiling, but her eyes were like flints, black and ready to ignite. Davis didn't like her.
"Yeah," he said in response. "What a day."
"So I hear you're waiting for Kimiko. You've got a date," Eiko brewed the coffee and poured it into the cup, still eying Davis as if he were some kind of predator.
"Yeah," he said again.
"Where is she?"
"Don't know. On her way?" Davis turned his eyes away from Eiko and instead looked at the bar.
"Well let's hope she isn't standing you up," Eiko added the steamed milk, snapped on a lid, and put the cup out on the other end of the brewing station where most customers picked up their drinks, announcing it. Davis hopped off his stool, grabbed it, and resumed his seat.
"Oh," said Eiko. "That was yours? Sorry, should have known."
"My name's on it, you bitch," is what Davis wanted to say. Instead, he grunted and took a sip. It was watery and lukewarm, and there was too much foam. But he'd deal. He checked his phone again. 12:12.
She'll be here.
TK stared out his back window at the rain. It was noon, yet the clouded sky made it look like it was six or seven PM.
"I hate rain," he said.
"Me, too," Patamon replied from his position on the couch. He hit a button on the TV remote, flipping through channels to find something to watch.
"Did the weather channel say there would be rain today?" He asked.
"'dunno," came Patamon's response. The sounds from the TV abruptly silenced, then immediately sprang back up again as he changed the channel again. TK pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring at the darkened landscape with half-lidded eyes. It was cold, and he could feel the vibrations from the rain hitting the pane. These were the kind of days that just made him want to sleep and hope that it would all go away tomorrow.
He closed his eyes and just listened to the constant, almost rhythmic patter of rain.
"There's nothing on," Patamon said, turning off the TV and letting out a deep sigh of boredom.
These are the days I wish I was a gamer, TK thought. A PS3 or something would solve his problems. He opened his eyes and drew his head away from the glass. Barring that, there was always Youtube. He turned away from the glass, toward his room, and began heading down the hallway.
The sky roared and his apartment lit up like there was a sun inside. TK ducked, placing one hand against the wall. He blinked and all the lights in the house went out.
"Holy crap!" Patamon shouted from the couch. "TK, did you see that?"
He turned around, "was that lightning?"
"Right outside! Like…right outside. Wow!"
TK tried one of the light switches, just to be sure. The storm must have taken out a transformer outside or something. The switch didn't respond, so TK maneuvered into his room, grabbing up his cell phone and d-3. The tension in his chest relieved a bit when he touched the old device. He put each into a separate pocket and headed into the living room.
"I'm going outside," he told Patamon.
"Why?"
"To see what the lightning hit, and to call the power company, let them know what's going on."
"I'm coming," the little digimon hopped up onto the back of the couch.
This time, TK got to ask, "Why?"
"I'm going to be there if you get hit by lightning."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," TK maneuvered behind the couch in the dim, picking up his backpack and checking to make sure nothing important was inside before letting Patamon hop in. He grabbed his jacket, swung the bag over his shoulder, and was off. A minute or so later, he hit the bottom of the stairs and walked out into the lobby of the apartment building. Lobby Girl wasn't behind the desk. She stood in front of the glass, her face pressed against it. TK arrived and she glanced at him.
"What got hit?" He asked.
She just stared, then turned back and pointed outside, "The post out there. The one with the…whatchamacallit? The big metal cans up by the power lines."
The transformer, like I thought. Damn. He pushed through the door and walked out under the canopy out front to get a better look. Indeed, the transformer up on the post was scorched and sparking. The pole had a long, black crack running halfway down its length. Must have been some bolt of lightning.
"Can I come out?" Patamon asked. TK looked behind, the girl was still there.
"I'd advise against it," he said.
He whipped out his phone and dialed the power company. He had them on speed-dial, this building had so many problems. A few dial tones later, and he was met with a pleasant womanly voice. It was a recording. He hit the proper numbers, spoke with a technician (with a decidedly less pleasant voice), and reported the strike. He said they'd have someone out soon, and thank you for reporting.
TK turned back to the entrance, and stopped. What was he supposed to do up in the apartment? It was dark, dreary, and cold. He could sit and mope. That was an option. But so was leaving.
He rushed inside and started a text as he ran up the stairs two at a time, telling his mom about the situation and that he was heading out, probably to Kari's. After hitting "send," he began another message—to Kari this time—asking if he could come over. She didn't respond.
She's probably asleep at the computer again, he thought.
He beamed another text to Tai, asking the same question, and if Kari was asleep.
Yes & Yes, came the response. Sweet.
"Patamon," he said as they reached his floor. "Want to go to Kari's?"
"As opposed to what?" the little digimon asked sarcastically. They'd obviously spent too much time together.
He rushed into the apartment, grabbed his keys, and rushed back out, making sure to lock the door. Back down the stairs, two at a time, and through the lobby past Lobby Girl, who was sitting once more behind her desk, cell phone in her hand and grump evident on her face, and he was outside, running toward his car.
Maybe I'll get there before she wakes up, he thought as he unlocked the door. It'll be a surprise for her.
He opened the door, tossed in Patamon, and sat down before getting too wet. The little digimon crawled out of the backpack, kicked it to the floor, and buckled up as usual. TK mimicked him, locked the doors, and started the car. 90's rock poured out of the speakers.
"Gatomon'll be surprised to see you," he said as he looked over his shoulder and backed into the parking lot.
"She's never surprised," Patamon said. It would have been a cynical remark, if not for the tiny hint of awe in his voice.
"Well, she'll be happy then."
"Yeah," Patamon said, snuggling into his seat and smiling. He was developing a "thing" for Gatomon. Had been for a little while. Neither of them knew if the feeling was mutual, though. TK wasn't sure how digimon dating went, whether they asked each other out or what. He'd never bothered to ask. Patamon was a big boy. If he was going to ask Gatomon out (or whatever), then he was going to do it on his own. Not TK's problem. And, quite honestly, digimon dating was weird, and sometimes thinking about it conjured images that TK would rather stayed buried in the dirty depths of his mind.
"And we'll get to see Matt, too," he said. He always looked forward to seeing Matt. When he lived in the apartment building with Sora, he'd visited as often as…well, he didn't want to "interrupt" anything, so he always sent word ahead.
He pumped the windshield wipers up a notch. The rain was really coming down. He had to drive slow, and could just barely see even with them wiping as rapidly as they were. He came to a stop-light, and though there were no other cars, the light was red. He pulled to a stop and they sat together listening to Matchbox 20 and waiting for the light to change. The wipers flipped back and forth, cutting through the river on the windshield with each swipe.
There was nobody there except him. No other cars, no people. That was odd, even on a rainy day. This was Tokyo. There were usually people everywhere. Granted, Odaiba wasn't exactly a hotspot, but still. The wipers swiped right, rain coated the glass, and then they swiped left, revealing…
…two people in cloaks, standing in the middle of the road, directly across from TK's car. He honked his horn. They didn't move. One was probably about six feet tall, the other…over eight, maybe ten.
"What the fuck?" TK whispered.
The radio announcer said something, and the song switched from Matchbox 20 to some Santana hit.
The shorter cloaked figure raised one arm and pointed at TK. The tall figure nodded, and reached to pull away the cloak. One hand was white, gloved, with a golden etched bracelet. The other was covered by an etched gold gauntlet, a glowing emerald set into the wrist. The tall figure unhooked the clasp at its chest, and let the cloak fall to its feet, allowing all six of its wings to spread wide.
TK's eyes widened with them, "What the fuck?"
At 12:45, Davis wished he'd brought a book or something. He stared at his mostly-empty cup of coffee between his hands, now room-temperature, and debated downing it and leaving. He popped off the lid and drank it like a shot, remnant foam and all. Standing, he stuffed it into the garbage and headed for the door.
"That's too bad," Eiko said as he walked away. He wanted to tell her to fuck off.
Instead, he flipped her the bird and stepped out into the rain without looking back to see her reaction. His hands found their way into his pockets and his shoulders hunched to meet his ears as he walked. The downpour was something of a comfort as he stared at the cement. Like a giant, vibrating, freezing security blanket, it coated him on all sides, and the rain drowned out outside noise, leaving him to his own thoughts.
That, he could have gone without. His thoughts weren't very pleasant.
Fucking stupid, they said, How fucking stupid are you? Did you really think she was serious? Idiot.
He bit his lower lip, his face growing hot and the space between his eyes wrinkling. His whole body was tense. He wanted to beat the shit out of someone. Trouble was, there wasn't anyone there on which he could unleash. So instead he walked.
A car rushed by him, and he had to jump against a building to avoid most of the wave it caused. He still got caught by the edge, soaking his right side in street-water as well as rain. He looked up at the sky,
"Fuck you," he said to it.
"Davis!" he blinked for a second. Did the sky just answer?
"Davis!" came the voice again, and he turned around. Not the sky, someone behind him.
"Don't tell me," he said. His eyes lit on someone running through the rain toward him.
She was wet. Soaked, actually. The car, he thought, probably caught her completely in its wave. The pinkish-red streaks were now bloody stains in her black hair. He stopped as she approached, putting her hands on her knees and panting.
"You're late," he said.
Kimiko laughed. A full belly-laugh that still sounded a bit like music. And, like music, it soothed the savage beast within him. The tension left his muscles, and the heat dissipated from his face.
"Yeah," she said. "I am."
"It's okay," he said. "I was late, too."
"Well, as long as we're on the same page," despite the terrible rain, the asshole car, and the poor situation, she beamed at him. He couldn't help but smile back.
"How did you find me?" he asked, pulling his phone out and checking the time. 1 o' clock. "I left, like, 15 minutes ago."
"This street only goes two directions," she said, "And I knew which way you didn't go, since I came that way. Ren said you left, and so I started running."
"I like Ren," Davis remarked, mostly to himself.
"Me, too. Eiko seemed pretty pissed, though."
"I flipped her off," Davis shrugged.
Kimiko's smile grew even wider, "Good for you! God, I wish I could do that. But, you know, there's the whole paycheck thing."
"She'll probably refuse me service," he said.
"Nah. She won't like it, but so long as you bring in money, she'll give you something to drink. The greedy ones always do," Kimiko stood up straight and stretched in the rain. It was an odd sight, to say the least.
"So. Where to? You said you had someplace cheap?" He asked. "That is, of course, assuming we're still on for today."
"I did, and we are," she said, standing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. He put his own arm around her shoulders. She was completely soaked, and her sweater squished under his fingers like a sponge. He imagined that his hoodie was much the same way under hers. "I was thinking a picnic."
Davis laughed, "All right. Where will we have it?"
"Follow me. I've got the perfect place," she said, and took a step forward. He stepped with her, letting her guide him down the sidewalk. For starting out terribly, this date was shaping up into something quite enjoyable.
"So why were you so late, anyway?" he asked.
"You're going to have to wait and see," she replied.
And that was fine with him.
"What the fuck?"
The angemon stood tall in the rain, its cloak falling to the ground. It had to be an angemon. It looked too similar to be anything else. Though, there definitely was something different about it. He wore a heavy pauldron on his left shoulder, golden and inlaid with glowing green gems. It connected to a heavy, winged gauntlet on the same hand. His feet, shins and knees were covered by metal boots and thick greaves made of the same etched gold and inlaid with the same glowing green stones. He held his right hand forward, and with a flash, he held a staff: long, etched with those same runes, and topped with another green stone, this one shining like a beacon.
The angemon swept the staff to his side and half-kneeled, like a sprinter.
"Oh, shit," TK said. "Patamon! Get out of the car!" He scrambled, unbuckling himself. He heard the zip of Patamon's belt sliding up as well. TK grabbed his partner and pulled on the door handle. It didn't move.
Of course not. The door was locked. He pulled on the tab to unlock it.
The angemon charged, raising his staff high, like a blade.
TK unlocked the door and opened it.
The angemon swung down.
TK jumped.
The center of the car crumpled, the engine block splitting in two. The weak frame buckled and the whole thing twisted into a strange V-shape. The sound—it was like TK's car was screaming. The radio died with a whimper and he rolled on the wet pavement, gripping Patamon close to his chest to protect him. He sat up and let Patamon go, staring at the car and the digimon.
"Why?" TK shouted, crawling to his knees. "Why would you do that?"
The angemon didn't answer, and neither did its hooded master. The digimon just turned toward him, leveling the staff at his face.
Patamon leaped forward, and TK's digivice began to vibrate, growing warm in the cool rain. With a flash of white light, he was Angemon, and he plowed into his counterpart's chest, grappling him. The staff flew from the enemy angemon's hands, and TK could immediately see the difference between the two fighting. It was the armor. Angemon had a golden, metal glove on his right hand, and a pair of golden boots, but the other was decked out like he was going to war. They tussled on the ground, fists flying and wings flailing, while TK watched in awe.
What the hell is going on?
He turned to the hooded figure, who just watched. Its arms were crossed, as if judging a contest. He could run over there and beat him down. Angemon seemed to be holding his own well enough. If he could bring down the master, he could bring down the digimon. It took both partners' energies to digivolve. Without the human, that angemon would just revert to its rookie form. As if it sensed his plan, the figure turned toward TK, and even though he couldn't see its face, he got a distinct feeling that charging over there would be a very bad idea.
So instead, he turned back to the brothers Angemon, who were still on the ground. Angemon—TK's angemon—was atop his foe, straddling his waist, one hand on his chest, and pummeling him with his golden-gloved fist. The enemy angemon swept his gauntlet out, smashing it across Angemon's face, and sending him reeling. He used the opportunity to throw him off and stand. One bright flash later, and his staff was back in his hand. He swung down at Angemon's head with a two-handed strike.
Clang!
With another flash of light, Angemon's own staff was in-hand, and blocking the attack. He rose to his feet and they proceeded to fight with their weapons, like feudal monks sparring. Each of the enemy angemon's attacks were furious and strong; kill-strikes aimed for vital organs: the head, heart and liver. He stabbed and slashed with the staff, wielding it almost as a spear, roaring with each lunge or swipe. Angemon blocked the attacks, his face set and his eyes following his enemy's weapon. A few times he tried to strike, but they were attacks for the shin or arm, intended to disable, not kill. They were dancing, the two of them. Twin warriors, dueling, fighting for dominance.
A lucky hit, too quick for the enemy angemon to block, caught him on the helmet, knocking him back. Angemon took advantage, sweeping his legs out from under him and knocking him to the ground. He directed one end of his golden quarterstaff at his foe's throat, and asked, "Why are you doing this?"
Angemon was panting with exertion. He may have had experience with combat, but he hadn't fought anyone in years. He'd been living a life on the couch, watching TV, or riding shotgun in TK's car. He wasn't the fighter he'd been before. The other was still strong, his eyes bright and glistening. His breaths were still even, his body hard and trained.
"Because it is my duty!" the enemy angemon shouted. He summoned his staff and swept it out, forcing Angemon back a few steps. With a beat of his wings, he was standing once more. He leaped forward, thrusting his staff like a spear and aiming for Angemon's heart. He dodged, but too late realized that the attack was a feint. The enemy angemon's staff whirled through the air and smashed across Angemon's helmet with a loud clang!
Angemon stumbled, losing his own staff.
His foe whirled his staff once more, coming down on the helmet and knocking Angemon to his knees. The helm cracked and a large chunk clattered to the rain-soaked pavement. He looked up at his opponent, a single bright blue eye wide and staring.
A third strike, upwards on Angemon's chin, knocked him back. He fell bleeding and battered, onto his back. His hands grasped for his staff, but it was far away, and he was weak.
Quick, and without remorse, like a Spartan warrior, the enemy angemon directed the green gem at the tip of his staff and thrust. It entered just beneath Angemon's ribs, and the digimon let out a howl of pain.
"Angemon!" TK shouted, rushing forward.
Angemon struggled, tried to grip the now-spear in his foe's hands to tear it from himself. The other snarled and twisted the weapon. TK's partner let out another cry.
"Angemon!" TK's feet carried him faster than he thought he could go, but he stopped fast, sliding in the slick rain. The angemon turned toward him, directing his gauntleted hand at his face. The green, inset gems shone bright, and the angemon's expression was grim.
"TK, run…" Angemon muscled through the pain and summoned forth the words. "…get out of here!"
TK looked up at the gauntleted hand—stared death in the face—and said, "No."
Something lit up inside him.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
His crest, hanging around his neck, began to warm his skin.
"Enough!"
The crest cooled, and both TK and his enemy turned to the hooded figure.
"Leave them. I've seen what I needed," the figure said. It was distinctly male, with somewhat of an English accent. Or was it English? TK couldn't quite tell.
With a flash, the golden staff-spear was gone, and both Angemon and TK let out sighs of relief. The armored angemon approached its master, who laid a pale hand against its stomach.
TK blinked. They were gone. Did he miss it? They were just…gone. He ignored the questions forming in his mind and rushed to Angemon's side. The digimon began to glow, and shrank into Patamon once more. TK picked him up and held him close. The wound was still there, but thankfully smaller in this smaller body. Still, it was beginning to bleed. The little digimon groaned in his arms.
"You're going to be okay, Patamon," TK said. He hoped he was right.
He held the little digimon in one hand, and reached into his pocket for his phone with the other. He had to lean over it so he could see and the rain didn't cover it. He searched his contacts. Someone. Someone with a car.
He hit send and put the phone to his ear.
"Come on come on come on…" he said, biting his lower lip and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Patamon groaned again, so he stopped the bouncing.
"Hello?" Sora's voice would have been angelic, but TK was sick of angels at the moment.
"Sora! This is TK! I need help!"
"TK? What's going on?"
TK looked up at the street sign nearby, "I'm on the corner of 5th and Nagai. I need you to get out here, now!"
"What happened?"
"Patamon's hurt. Bad. I need to get him to Gennai," he said, turning toward the mangled, twisted hunk of metal that was once his car.
"I'll be right there. 5th and Nagai?"
"Yeah. Heading toward Tai's place."
Sora confirmed, and hung up the phone. TK shoved his back into his pocket and cradled his digimon. The little guy's eyes were beginning to roll back into his head.
"Patamon!" he shouted, and the eyes came back. "Patamon, stay with me. You're going to be okay!"
"…TK?" the little digimon asked.
"You'll be okay, buddy."
God, he hoped so.
Kimiko had a tree house. The rain fell down in sheets all around them, but up in the tree, with both a wooden roof and layer upon layer of branches above them, Davis and Kimiko were dry. It was a small tree-house, maybe ten by five feet, built between two thick evergreens, the trunks literally growing up through the floor and ceiling. It had been there so long, the bark (and presumably some of the tree) was actually growing around the wooden planks. A bag of charcoal sat in one corner, and a small, portable radio played Queen's "We are the Champions" in the other; it was on a Queen playlist from her thumb drive. Davis leaned against one of the tree trunks, his legs crossed and watching Kimiko, who knelt across from him, tending to a small hibachi grill. Two small salmon steaks swam in tin-foil boats filled with melted butter, hissing and crackling over the hot orange coals. Beside them, fruit-and-vegetable skewers roasted, their edges blackening.
The scent was near-heaven. This is what had kept her—the picnic preparations. She woke up later than expected, and had to fillet the fish and slice up the veggies herself, as well as get all the equipment out here without soaking the charcoal or ruining the radio.
"So you've seriously never grilled before?" Kimiko asked. "But you're…a guy. Isn't that supposed to be a staple hobby of your gender or something?"
Davis smiled, "Guess I'm not really a traditionalist."
"Neither am I. Tradition's over-rated," she flipped the fruit-and-veggie skewers over. "But…you've been to a barbecue before, right? Eaten grilled food."
"A couple times," Davis thought back. Most of his friends lived in apartments, where there was little room to put a barbecue. And his own family…no. They weren't barbecue people. He'd been to communal parties at the park before, for his soccer team, where they'd cooked hot dogs and burgers and whatnot. "But not really."
"Then you are in for a treat. Barbecue in the rain is the best."
Davis raised an eyebrow, "that seems counter-intuitive. Shouldn't it be best in the summer time? With sunshiney weather?"
"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" She shook one of the tinfoil boats, loosening the salmon's grip on the bottom. "But, in fact, it's the cold that makes it better. When you're hot, you want something cold. A popsicle, or a cold soda or ice cream or something. But when you're cold…it's like how hot chocolate is best when it's snowing outside. The rain…it clears the air. Everything's cool and fresh, and a nice warm steak or a cut of salmon…it's like art. All about contrast."
Davis understood. One could chock it up to 'opposites attract' or something. And as he thought about it, it just made more and more sense. The thought of a cool drink of water after a summer game, or—as she said—a cup of hot chocolate in the winter. It all made sense.
Kimiko was staring at her food, a look of dedication and care in her eyes. He knew then that she would have the same look no matter what she was doing. Whether she was painting a picture or skipping stones, she was always going to do her best. He shifted forward, onto his knees in front of the hibachi, and she looked up.
"Want me to teach you?" She asked.
"Just what I was going to ask," he replied.
"Well," she began, and Davis listened as she explained the nuances.
The Chronicles of the Circle was one of Gennai's favorite books. Written in that strange time in the digital world's lifetime when the advent of books was beginning to usurp scrolls—as well as a shift in languages—it was a beautiful piece of history, written almost as an epic poem. It was the tale of the Circle of Five, a group of magical digimon that inhabited the digital world. Yet, at the same time, while telling the story of each member of the Circle, it was, itself, a circular story. One could start anywhere within the book's pages, with any sentence, skipping from the end of the book to the beginning, and when you reached your initial sentence, the story would be told. Each time Gennai read the book, he started from a new point. And each time he read it, he came to a new conclusion about the characters and the story.
This would be his fifth time reading the tale. And he was beginning from Witchmon's point of view. She was the patron of wind within the five, and was known as the wildest and most rambunctious of the group. Rather than take on the responsibilities of their order, she spent her days soaring across the digital world on her flying broom, adventuring and meeting digimon from every corner of the globe. Gennai knew how her tale would end. He'd read four times before. But as his eyes scanned over her exploits in the small town of Tenuto, how she slew the Tree of Anguish and saved the town's citizens, he was learning new things about the character.
It truly was a wonderful book.
He reached to his tea, now lukewarm, sitting on the table in front of his couch, and raised it to his lips, taking a sip. Having defeated the tree, Witchmon knelt over an injured human girl that had stumbled into the digital world. In fact, she was the cause of all Tenuto's problems. She'd come to the village and, not understanding the digimon or their world, she'd awakened the Tree of Anguish and been swallowed by it, the Tree's first victim. She now lay here before Witchmon and all of Tenuto, near death. The villagers begged she leave her to her fate. The girl, unconscious, said nothing.
She called silence to the crowd,
"Who are you to judge this girl?
"A stranger here, in this land."
The crowd's voices fell silent,
They could not argue with her,
She knelt before the doomed girl,
And laid her hands upon her,
She called upon the wind's heart,
She begged the girl live again,
The winds said, with wispy gasps,
"The human is not our child,
"She must pay for ignorance,
"For her curiosity."
"Then make her pay," said the Witch,
"Take from her what she treasures,
"But grant her life, I beg you."
The winds agreed to the deal,
And with their aid, she revived,
But with her return, she paid,
And when she tried to go home,
Back to the world of humans,
She found that skill lost to him,
For to return from beyond,
One must forsake the winds' toll,
"Gennai!" a voice outside called his name. He looked up from his book. Who was that? A boy, and he thought he recognized the voice, but it was muffled. Veemon was asleep in one of the back rooms. It wasn't him, was it?
"Gennai!" it came again. "Help!" He closed the book and rose. That was TK's voice.
The boy's knocks were rapid, frantic. Gennai came to the door and opened it. TK and Sora stood there, panting. In TK's arms, Patamon gasped for air, his own breaths rapid and labored. A small puncture in his abdomen leaked a trail of blood that stained TK's arm red.
"Yggdrasil," he said, and he stood aside for the two humans to enter. They did so, and he followed, shutting the door as he went.
"Sora. Clear off the table," he commanded. She did as he asked, placing the teacup atop the Chronicles and moving them to the bookshelf. He was loath to damage the book's cover with a moisture ring from the cup, but Patamon's health was a bit more important at the moment.
He swept the blanket that lay as a cover on the couch onto the table, and directed TK to lay patamon down upon it.
"Sora. There is a faucet in the kitchen. It doesn't get hot water, though. Heat some on the stove, in the teapot, and bring me some towels," he pointed her in the direction of the kitchen and she went. He turned to TK, "what in the hell happened?"
"I…he was stabbed," TK said.
"I can see that," Gennai snapped back. The boy reacted as if stung.
"As Angemon," he continued. "He was stabbed as Angemon. We were driving to Kari's, to visit her. And there was this guy standing in the middle of the road. There was so much rain, and he was wearing a cloak. And he had a digimon! They were standing there, and then the digimon took off its cloak, and it was an angemon! Except…it was different. It was all covered in gold armor, and these weird, glowing green gems. He attacked us, and Patamon protected me. They fought, and we almost had him, but he stabbed Angemon. Right under the ribs. And I almost used my crest! We would have won, but the guy—in the cloak—he told his angemon to stop. And then they just…disappeared. Just, like, I blinked and they were gone."
Gennai noted each detail as it came up. A human and a digimon. Partnered, based on the situation. But the digimon was an Angemon. It was exceedingly rare to see such a partnership. And the green stones set in the gold armor. What might those be? Noqual was a green stone that emerged naturally in the digital world, could this team have taken some from a mine? And the gold, could it be gold digizoid? No other metal would make sense, but the only person he knew capable of forging something from gold digizoid was Tyron.
But all the thought process was cut short and forgotten upon hearing the final detail.
Gennai's eyes widened, "They just disappeared?"
"I just blinked and they were gone," TK replied.
No. That's not…it can't be him.
He shook off the shock. Even if it was him, Gennai couldn't focus on it right now. Patamon lay dying before him. He looked up from the little digimon toward the kitchen. "How's that water coming, Sora?"
She rushed out with a warm, wet towel. "warm enough for this, but still not hot."
Gennai took it and said, "Good. Get more towels. And get a bowl out for the water when it's hot."
"Is he going to be okay?" TK asked.
"If we can keep him awake, I think so. It's easier to fight for your life if you're conscious," Gennai began wiping at the wound, cleaning away the blood. He pressed down on the wound a bit when he came close. It drew blood, and Patamon let out a yelp.
TK bit his lower lip and watched Gennai's work. He placed a hand on Patamon's head and said, "It'll be okay, buddy. You just have to stay with us. Can you do that?"
Patamon moaned. Gennai pushed on the wound with the towel, drawing blood again, and he shouted in pain, his eyes shooting open.
TK's eyes snapped up to Gennai's, fury ignited like fire within them, "Why did you do that?"
"Woke him up," the old man responded. He removed the towel and laid both his hands on Patamon's abdomen. "You keep him that way. I have to take a look at what's going on inside."
"What?" TK asked. Gennai ignored the question.
"…TK?" Patamon asked.
"Patamon. Patamon, you're all right!"
"TK…where are we?"
"We're at Gennai's. We need to keep you awake, buddy," TK placed a hand on Patamon's head.
"Awake? No…I'm cold, TK. Tired…" the little digimon's voice began to drift.
"Patamon!" TK shouted at him. The little digimon's eyes lit up again. "Patamon! You will not fall asleep! Do you hear me? I will not ALLOW it! You are my partner, and I refuse to let you die again!" His cheeks were turning red, and tears were beginning to form in his eyes. "You will stay AWAKE, damn it!"
Patamon looked up at him, his eyes only half-lucid, and forced a nod, swallowing hard. "Awake."
"Awake," TK said in a wavering voice.
Sora came out with a pile of towels and laid them beside Gennai. Her own eyes were hard, if on the edge of despair, like TK. Without a look to either of them, she returned to the kitchen, determination evident in every step.
Gennai closed his eyes, his hands upon the little digimon. He hadn't done this in a long time. There were many gifts granted to him as the Watcher of the digital world. He could see beyond the physical, through it. He could see with crystal clarity what was happening a thousand miles away if he focused.
At the moment, he only needed to see a few inches below his hands.
He took in a deep breath, and opened it: his Third Eye. The gift of Yggdrasil, the ability to see, the spiritual eye that could view anything, anywhere within the digital world. With it, he gazed into Patamon, through the fur and flesh, to see the wound. His third eye painted the picture for him. He saw the staff-spear enter Angemon's chest, saw the shredded flesh it left in its wake. The green stone acted as a spearhead, carving a pathway. He watched as the staff twisted, and a shard of the stone embedded itself in Angemon. That is what was killing him now. The wound could be treated by mundane means. No arteries were cut, no vital organs punctured. But that stone would bring him closer to death's door with each gasping breath.
Gennai's eyes fluttered open, and his third closed. "This is bad. It's a relative miracle that he's alive still, now."
"That's us," Patamon groaned. "Full of miracles."
Gennai almost smiled.
"Can you help us?" TK asked.
Gennai closed his eyes again, and pressed his lips together, "not me. This is beyond my skill. But I know who can." He opened them and glanced to the book lying on his shelf, the tea cup upon it.
"Then get them," TK demanded. "Now."
"She won't come here. And I don't know that she will help, anyway," Gennai couldn't help but think of the end of that book. The end of her story.
"Then take me to her," TK demanded. "Take us."
Gennai nodded, "Yes. Yes, I'll take you." He looked to the boy, and held him fast with his gaze, "but you must know that she doesn't just grant favors. She'll expect something in return. Something valuable."
"Fine," TK said. "Whatever. Just take us."
Sora entered the room with a bowl of hot water. She set it beside Patamon and said, "I'll go. It's not like I can do any good here. I might be able to help convince her."
"Right. Let's clean Patamon up first," Gennai took the towels and the hot water and cleaned around the wound while TK and Sora talked with the digimon to keep him awake. He strained as Gennai got close to the puncture, but muscled through it.
At the end, he covered the wound with one of the wet towels, "All right. TK, you take Patamon. Then, both of you, hold my hands," he stood and offered both. TK picked up Patamon, who groaned, and took Gennai's hand. Sora took the other. "You might want to close your eyes. Humans don't generally find shifting pleasurable.
It was true. He'd only shifted with human companions a few times before, and they hadn't had anything good to say about it.
TK did. He also held his breath. Sora did the same. Gennai focused, closed his eyes and opened his third again. He saw the hut, on the cliff side. The ocean splashed against the rocks, sending spray up into the air. She stood outside the hut.
She was waiting.
And in the next few moments, they were there. TK and Sora were gripping his hands hard, and they both gasped and coughed upon hitting ground once more. Humans were not built to undergo the strains of shifting from one point to another.
Upon opening his eyes, Gennai found himself on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. The sky here was covered in dark clouds that threatened to downpour at any moment.
Here they were, on the other side of the world.
About fifty feet away, a small shack sat at the edge of the cliff. Smoke poured from the center of the roof, which was just a hole for that exact purpose. A hunched, robed figure stood outside, watching them. It was a woman. Or rather, a woman-shaped digimon. She had blue, wrinkled skin and dirty, flaxen hair.
"That's her?" Sora asked.
"Hagmon," Gennai said. He pursed his lips. He'd been here only once before, and had forgotten. The witch's yellow eyes glared out at them from her place beside the hut.
How he changed you.
"Let's go," TK said, and began marching toward the old woman and her hut. They reached her and got a better look at her. She was ugly and old, with warts all over her face. The sclera of her eyes was turning yellow, and her teeth were already there, and were well on their way to green. She had a huge hooked nose, and her dark hands ended in knobby, too-long fingers. Her eyes went straight to Gennai as they approached,
"What do ya want, Watcher? I've done nothin' wrong," she croaked. Jealousy burned in those yellowing eyes.
"We need your aid," Gennai responded, standing tall.
Hagmon's eyes jumped to Sora, then TK, then Patamon in his arms, "I see a premature angel, yet he don't fly." She approached, and saw the blood-stained towel. "I see. A battle, but not a victory. Bring'im in. We don't want the salt in the air causing any more harm, do we?" She cackled and walked inside the hut. It had no door.
They all entered, TK first, and it looked just as it had the last time he'd come. The ground was covered in fish and bird bones, and several of the creatures—dead—hung on strings from the ceiling. The whole room was smoky from a dying fire in the center of the room, mostly coals now, and TK coughed a bit as he entered, as did Patamon. Piles of junk leaned against the walls, and the only semblance of furniture was a single table and its paired chair, both older than Gennai. The table was littered with knife-marks, and the offending knife sat buried an inch deep in the wood, beside the old carcass of a hedgehog.
"So ya need the little angel healed, then? Beyond your skills, is it, Watcher? I 'spect so. Your hands never were ones for healin'. That was always Nerina, what learned the useful skills," the old digimon's voice was like gravel being raked over bones. "Put 'im on the table. I'll take a look."
TK was hesitant to do so, but followed Hagmon's instructions. She approached and tossed the towel off into one of her rubbish heaps.
"Ooh," she said, almost excited. She extended one of her fingers and dipped the long, broken nail into the wound. Patamon yelped. Gennai looked away. It was almost too much. Ancient memories were bubbling forth.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" TK shouted.
She drew out the finger and tasted the blood on the nail, "checkin' the damage. Not all of us can just peer inta people like some kind'a voyeur." She licked her lips. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Abysium! Watcher, ya bring Abysium inta my home? How dare you!"
She pushed TK aside and rushed to Gennai, jabbing a bony finger at him. "Vile beast! Immortal, yet so petty as to try to poison me! I won't have it! Out, fiend! Out! Back to the darkness with ya! Back to the ocean!"
Gennai stepped back, "Abysium? No, I thought…it's Noqual, isn't it?"
"Noqual! Ha! Ya think I wouldn't recognize Abysium when I taste it? Yer anger must have no depths, Watcher!"
"I swear I didn't know! I thought it was Noqual when I saw it!"
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Sora stomped forth, between them. "What does this 'abysium' have to do with anything?"
"It's a mineral. Can only be found in the darkest of worlds, like the Dark Ocean. It's poisonous to all forms of life," Gennai explained.
"It's a venom! Sorcery forged by the Nightmare to kill us all!" Hagmon shrieked. "And I'll not remove it! I'll not have it in my home!"
"What?" TK's jaw almost dropped.
"What do I care if one little patamon dies from his battle-wound? Ya Should've trained 'im better, should've known not to tangle with anyone wielding abysium," she said.
"You have to help him!" he screamed.
"Why?" She asked. "What makes you important? Why should I risk my life to save your little rat's?" Hagmon looked up at TK, and the wind outside picked up, whistling past the hole in the roof and the door in the wall.
"He's the digidestined of Hope!" Sora jumped in. Hagmon's eyes lit upon her.
"Come again?"
TK pulled his crest out from under his shirt, and the old witch's eyes flicked to it.
"Ooh…the Chosen One of Hope," she tasted the words, her mood shifting from dark to enthralled. The wind died down. "Yes. Yes, I think we can work out a deal."
"A deal. Good, what do you want?" TK asked.
"Give me that crest, and I'll heal your friend," she said.
"NO!" Gennai stepped forward, this time, his voice booming like a drum.
"Sorry, but this ain't your decision, Watcher," she spat the last word like a curse.
"TK, don't do it. Even if Patamon dies, he'll come back in Primary Village. This isn't worth losing your crest," he said. His eyes were steel.
"True," Hagmon replied. "But who knows how long that's going to take. You know, well as me, Watcher, that there's no telling when eggs come back. Humans have died waiting for their digimon to come back."
"Why do you want the crest?" TK asked, staring into her eyes.
"Protection, child," she replied. TK gave her a quizzical look.
"The crest will act as a reliquary for her," Gennai said. "It will protect her from the abysium's taint so long as she doesn't touch it."
"Protection," Hagmon repeated.
"Don't give it to her," Gennai pleaded. "It truly isn't worth it, TK."
TK looked at Gennai, then at Patamon, gasping for breath on the dirty, scarred table.
He took off the crest, and offered it to Hagmon. She snatched it up, looping the cord around her wrist a few times and admiring the tag.
"Good. Deal, then," she said, and approached the table once more. She rapped on it a couple times. The hedgehog carcass sprung to life, and Gennai realized it wasn't a carcass, but rather just an extremely malnourished hedgehog. "You! We need to heal this baby angel, here."
"Payment?" the hedgehog asked. Its voice was high and raspy.
"Been offered," Hagmon dangled the crest before her familiar.
"Shiny," it marveled, and approached Patamon. "Heavy wound. Powerful spell."
"Agreed," Hagmon picked up the hedgehog, ignoring the quills piercing her skin, and placed it in her opposite palm. With her injured hand, she began to wave her hand above her head, in swooping gestures. The hedgehog began to glow, and the wind outside started to pick up once more. The hedgehog grew brighter with each gesture, and the wind grew stronger, shaking the entire hut. Soon, the little animal was a tiny star in her hand, and the wind reached its crescendo, howling and tearing at the sides of the building. She ceased her waving and placed her hand and the tiny animal on Patamon's belly. The wind rushed in through the roof and engulfed the three o them, like a tornado. The junk and bones that surrounded them whirled up into a deadly whirlwind. Patamon screamed from within the tornado, and TK rushed forward to help him. Sora pulled him back. TK shouted for them to stop, that the deal was off. Patamon continued to scream.
After maybe thirty seconds, he silenced, and the whirling wall of refuse dropped around them. TK ran to his friend's side. The hedgehog crawled off the little digimon and nestled up next to the knife, looking as much a carcass as it had before.
The wound was gone, and Patamon was breathing easy. Above him, a tiny green shard floated and glowed with a faint, sickening light. Hagmon put out a hand, the one which possessed the crest wrapped around its wrist. The abysium floated over her open palm. The crest began to glow, and the abysium's glow changed from green to a warm, sun-like yellow. It crumbled to dust that fell into her palm, and she dumped it on the floor with everything else.
"He'll be fine," shesaid. "He'll sleep the rest of the day, but'll be fine. Now leave."
TK scooped his digimon up and turned to Hagmon, "Thank you."
"Leave!" She screamed, like a hawk, at them.
They all rushed outside, the wind having died down once more. Gennai cast one more look over his shoulder at Hagmon. She sat in her chair, staring at the crest around her wrist.
What have you become? He thought. You were once brave, strong, caring. Everything in the book and more. How could you have let him do this to you?
There was no response, for he had asked no question aloud.
Gennai offered his hands. TK and Sora took them.
"You're an idiot," Gennai said as they arrived in his bloody living room.
"I don't care," was TK's response. "Patamon's okay. That's all that matters. He's okay."
"Sora, please tell me you understand," Gennai said. "You couldn't give up your crest like that, could you?"
"I…" she began, but stopped. "Come on, TK." Together, they headed for the door.
TK turned around just as they opened the door, and looked up into Gennai's eyes.
"Thank you," he said.
Gennai didn't respond.
They closed the door, and he turned to the bookshelf. The teacup left a ring of moisture on the book's cover. It mattered little, now. He shelved it, letting his fingers rest on its spine for a few moments after.
The end of Witchmon's story was the same as the end for all of the Five. Separate, their power could not be unified, and Castle Witchelny was overcome by the dark wizard Barbamon. He sought them out, one by one, and tore their lives down around them, destroying them outright or transforming them into what Gennai had seen today.
The salmon and skewers lay half-eaten beside the cooling hibachi. They had been divine, the salmon cooked perfectly and the flavors of the fruits and veggies playing off each other like music. Davis even remembered some of what Kimiko taught him about working the grill and cooking the food.
But he was a little preoccupied at the moment. As warm and wonderful as the food had been, Kimiko was warmer, and ever-so-much more wonderful. Her tongue ran along the inside of his mouth, sliding across the inside of his teeth. One hand ran through his hair, and the other wrapped around his neck to keep him from getting away. Of course, it would have been hard to get away, as he was lying on his back and she was straddling his torso.
People had always told him that the second date was the earliest one should go for a kiss, and even then, it should only be a peck as you walk her to her door. It was like a tradition, they said. That's just the way it was done. And, in the past, that's exactly what had happened for Davis. Granted, his relationships didn't usually last beyond two or three dates, but it was still tradition.
Kimiko was definitely not one for tradition. Davis's own hands were on her sides, almost as if to keep her from pulling away.
She parted from him, planting a smaller kiss at the corner of his mouth, like a signature, and leaned her forehead against his, their noses touching.
"Wow," said Davis.
"Good wow, or bad wow?" Kimiko asked.
"Definitely good," he said, and he leaned up to brush his lips against hers again.
She accepted it and smiled, "don't think this makes me easy or anything. I've just been wanting to kiss you for a long time."
"Guess I should have seen it earlier," he replied. "Almost a year, now. Going to Starbucks almost every day, and I never really saw you."
"I know, right?" She smiled again, "even after you started walking me to work. You must be pretty thick."
"Never been known for being the smart guy," he said, and leaned into her once more. She tipped them both onto their sides and their mouths became one once more.
The radio started up Queen's "Somebody to love."