VIRAL; adjective
From the Sanskrit "virala" meaning precious, rare, infrequent, one in a million kind.
It had been the longest three hours of their young lives. They had found Motimon's swarm, eradicated whatever it was that had been affecting all of them, and finally, blessedly, in gratitude for their help, been told where they could begin to look for a Virala Lily.
Good luck finding that. It supposedly grows in the hills to the east, but they're rare. Gotta have exactly the right conditions, and sharp eyes.
Not to be deterred by slim odds, Miyako, Iori, Hawkmon and Armadimon had set to work immediately. They looked high and low, quite literally, with Hawkmon flying up scouring the higher elevations, while the others split up to cover more ground. The problem wasn't finding a flower - there were flowers everywhere, but many of them looked alike. Every time one of them thought they may have found one at last, closer inspection proved them wrong. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every failure felt like another grain of sand slipping through the hourglass. They weren't sure whether a lack of response from Daisuke was Good News or Bad News, and none of them seemed eager to ask what the others thought.
Fight GranKuwagamon. Return Motimon to his home. Wear down and cure the Kunemon, Dokunemon and Dokugamon. Scour land for what seemed like forever. It was wearing them all quite thin, their energy waning, and their hopes dipping lower. The longer they spent looking, coming up empty handed, the worse Ken's chance's for a recovery. Just when Iori's mind was beginning to wander to darker places, Miyako's voice carried over the hillside, bright and breathless with exhaustion and delight.
"I found it!"
When Iori and the others found her, she was on her knees and elbows in the dirt, as if she were worshiping the demure plant in front of her. There, propped up among sparse blades of grass and pebbles, clustered in among more of the same flowers that covered the entire hillside, was the thing they had been searching for. Less a 'lily' and more a of larger-than-average honeysuckle, it was exactly as Dokugamon had described to them.
"You're… you're really sure that's the one?" asked Iori, still trying to catch his breath.
"It is! It really is!" Miyako cried as she pried at the roots, loosening the bloom from the soil. "See! Spots on the stem, gradient coloring, just like Dokugamon said… this is it!"
"Well done, Miyako-san!" Hawkmon praised, and Miyako looked up at him with a bright smile, cradling the flower softly between her fingers.
"Now we just need to find a way to brew the remedy, and get back as quickly as possible," said Iori.
And just like that, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails, her facing falling.
"I ...didn't bring anything to cook with, did you?"
Iori glumly shook his head. "I didn't think we were going to be here past dinner time."
"Oh!" Armadimon cut in, "When I was on the other side of the hill, I saw a village! Maybe someone there will let us use their stuff," said Armadimon.
"We have to try, it's our only option," said Miyako. "Hawkmon, I know you must be tired, but can you evolve into Aquilamon and carry us there? We need to move fast."
Hawkmon seemed to puff his chest with pride "You don't even need to ask! For the sake of you and our comrades, I would do anything!"
Folding the flower delicately in a handkerchief, Miyako slipped it into her pocket and withdrew her D-3.
"Then let's go!"
The ground beneath Ken's feet shifted, and slipped, the world all black sand at midnight. Ken hated the dark, but yet here he was. A moon-and-star-less sky loomed overhead, the air stale, and stifling. Hot as mid-day in August, but silent as snowfall. No, not silent. He could hear everything. His breath, whistling, rattling, in and out. His pulse, blood rushing through his ears. He put one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, sink, and slide, and slip, the sound of shifting grains as loud as grinding stones. The heat pressed down on him.
"Motomiya?" he called to the darkness, and it seemed to swallow his voice. "Wormmon?" And again, as if the air were wrapping his words neatly into a velvet box.
They had been there a minute ago, hadn't they? Of course they had. They'd gotten separated in the dark, but he'd find them again. He had to stay focused. If he could just find the lightswitch, or the wall. Hesitantly, he reached out, and touched nothing.
"Miyako-san? Iori-kun?" his words drowned in the sound of water in his head. "Motomiya?" he tried again, louder this time.
Nothing but the sounds of his own body, echoed back to him. His heart beat. Louder, faster, faster with every desperate step.
"Ken-chan."
He stopped abruptly, and all sound vanished. As Ken turned over his shoulder, Wormmon gazed at him from a distance, clear as day in the pitch black, as if he emitted his own light. Ken smiled, the tension in his shoulders unraveling.
"Wormmon!" his voice was high with relief and joy as he turned around, pushing off against the sand.
He stumbled, struggling to find purchase in the shifty ground. With every step he sank a little deeper, and the heat seemed to grow more intense. Like a steam room, or an oven, so warm, air thick like soup. It slowed him down. His palms slammed against his knees, his elbows locked as he braced himself, breathing heavily. His gaze dropped, sweat rolling off his face, disappearing into the ground.
"Ken-chan, come find me," the little voice trilled.
Ken sucked in as deep a breath as he could manage, dark hair thrashing about his face as he lifted his head, ready to call out to his Digimon partner - but instead of Wormmon at a distance, he now stood directly in front of a large egg. The words died on his lips. Ken recognized this digi-egg, bright and gleaming in the bed of shadows, patterned in heart-shaped spots . He could never forget it. Ken fell to his knees, grasping it reverently in his hands. It burned like hot iron, it seared his skin, but still he held it.
"Wormmon?" he whispered.
The egg cracked. Smoke billowed out of the crevices, and Ken moved to burry his face in the crook of his elbow, but he would not drop the egg. It smelled of fire and ash, and filled his nostrils with a burning that brought tears to his eyes. And then, all at once, the egg disintegrated in his hands, dark ashes slipping through his fingers. Ken felt his heart in his throat, his stomach turning over in agony. All he could do was stare at his soiled palms, a mix of dying embers and sweat coating his skin, his eyes wide in shock.
What's lost cannot return.
It was still too hot. The silent tears that streamed from his eyes felt like boiling water, scalding his cheeks. He felt the words in his mouth, but they couldn't reach his ears. Slowly, a pair of arms circled him, pinning his arms to his sides, palms drifting over his chest. A body pressed up against his back.
"Hey man, you don't look so good." The breath on his neck caused the hairs there to stand on end. He'd know that voice anywhere. Ken's mouth was dry, but he tried to speak anyway.
"Motomiya?" Confused, his voice wavered, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tried to turn his head, but a hand caught his jaw, holding his gaze fixed forward. The tears continued to run from his eyes, as if they were a leaky faucet. He tasted salt and sweat. Fingertips trailed down from his chin, down his throat, caressing the muscle that ran from ear to clavicle.
"C'mon, talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."
Hadn't he heard these words before? Hadn't he just heard them?
But it wasn't like this before, it wasn't...
He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The second hand drifted, lower, sliding from his chest, across his trembling torso, reaching for purchase on the boney ridge of his hip. These arms had him bound like ropes, or snakes, and more than anything, Ken wanted to see his face. He tried turning again, but those fingers pressed into the tender flesh of his throat, and he stilled. His pulse raced beneath those calloused fingertips. Ken swallowed, and found his tongue.
"Motomiya… What're you-"
"I'll stay."
"What?"
"I'll stay."
Stay where?
The sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted distantly into his ears, mingled with the sound of that familiar breathing. Somehow he was standing again, and he'd lost his shoes, somewhere. Water licked at his bare feet. Something else licked at his neck; soft, burning, sending a strange tingling down his spine. Again, and again, drifting down the curve of his neck, across his shoulder.
Daisuke... He only ever called him that in his mind. His lips could never seem to wrap around the sounds, but Daisuke's lips seemed to be doing a very good job of obliterating his senses.
How was he supposed to look for his shoes, like this?
The water rose; to his ankles, to his knees, to his waist. He was soaked, from the inside, out. He sank, as the world pressed in on him, and water filled his lungs.
Ken screamed.
His eyes shot open and he gasped. Air rushed into his lungs. His vision flooded with light so abruptly that he shut his eyes again, flinching away. His head swam, but there was no more water, no more sand. The ground beneath him was firm, except for whatever it was that was tucked beneath his head and shoulders - lumpy, hard and soft at once. Slowly, he dared to open his eyes again. Sunlight dappled down through the leaves overhead, obstructed only by the blurred silhouette of the figure above him. Slowly, it came into focus. Sun-kissed skin, shoulders draped in an off-white t-shirt, and a shock of mahogany hair crowned with white rimmed goggles. Daisuke's face hoovered over him.
"Hey," said Daisuke, quietly, as if trying not to wake him. Uncharacteristic concern crinkled his brow, but he tried to smile through it. "Welcome back. You looked kinda restless there. Bad dream?"
Ken blinked slowly up at Daisuke. His senses were gradually returning. Minomon was curled tightly up against his side, sleeping soundly. To Daisuke's right, Chibimon was also asleep, and snoring softly. Daisuke's unusual softness made sense now. As Ken shifted to one side, he caught a glimpse of red, blue, and gold beneath his cheek. He recognized it almost immediately as Daisuke's coat, the one that always appeared when they jumped over to the digital world. The fabric was partially folded, and draped in an odd sort of cradle that Ken gradually came to recognize as Daisuke's legs, folded crosswise; somehow or another, he had come to be lying in his best friend's lap. That would explain why Daisuke seemed to be looking at him upside-down. Ken also distantly noticed that his own jacket had been removed, and the top few buttons of his collar undone. Thin cotton clung to his clammy skin, and his limbs felt as though someone had tied cinder blocks to them. He remembered the ghostly sensations against his neck.
Ken decided not to answer Daisuke's question about his dream.
"How long was I out?" asked Ken, his voice rough, his throat parched.
"You've been in and out for a while now. But, maybe twenty minutes?" replied Daisuke.
Ken paused. His eyes burned in the sockets, and the world seemed to be slowly tilting, "It's hot…" he breathed, still feeling as though he were trapped in that dark sauna of his mind.
"That's because you have a fever," said Daisuke, reaching for something out of Ken's line of sight. "You've been burning up for the last few hours." he added, an attempt at sounding casual that rang hollow in Ken's ears.
"Hours…" he parroted, as if he were still processing the information.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Ken closed his eyes. His stomach clenched and turned over, but mercifully stopped at that. His arm throbbed painfully. He knew now, he was definitely awake, the dream dissolving slowly like grains of sand through his fingers. Ken reached to pull Minomon closer, his partner reflexively snuggling in. "Yeah… yeah, I remember now."
When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with a half-empty plastic water bottle hovering in front of his face.
"Here. You're probably pretty thirsty, right?" Daisuke offered "Think you can handle it this time?"
Ken took a moment to mull over the question. 'Pretty Thirsty' was an understatement, and that bitter taste from before still lingered on his tongue, if he paid attention. Finally, he nodded slightly, then pulled himself to sit up. The world tilted, and spots danced in front of his eyes. Daisuke seemed uncertain whether he should help or not, his free hand hovering inches from Ken, but not quite touching him. Ken reached to take the water from Daisuke. It was about as effective at quenching his thirst as it would have been trying to soak desert sand, but still he drank it. Slowly, calmly, until there were only sparse drops clinging to the groves in the cheap plastic bottle. If Ken didn't know better, he'd have sworn he was on a boat, the way the world around him seemed to sway. When he turned his head to look at Daisuke, he found his best friend staring at him anxiously, shoulders hunched over, hands planted on his knees.
"...What?" Ken asked apprehensively.
The trance was broken, and Daisuke straightened up a bit. "Ah.. it's just… well, last time…" he fumbled with his words, absently scratching at his face with his index finger. Everything sounded a bit like soup in Ken's ears. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't gonna… ya know…"
"...Oh." Right. Ken was distantly grateful that even if everything seemed to be whirling a bit, at least his stomach wasn't joining the party. Yet.
The arm he was leaning on trembled beneath his weight. The air was thick, and he felt like he couldn't pull nearly enough of it into his lungs. He heard a soft wheezing, whistling sound, and realized that it was coming from himself.
"...Are… are you feeling any better?" Daisuke asked, his tone genuine, and uncertain.
Ken averted his gaze. He could tell that Daisuke desperately wanted the answer to be 'yes', but he just couldn't force the lie past his tongue. "About the same," he offered instead.
In truth, he didn't feel as frightened as he had some time ago. Instead he just felt sluggish, weighed down, like every little thing he normally took for granted was suddenly the most difficult thing in the world to accomplish. Moving, drinking, breathing, it was all a struggle. Despite his better judgement, Ken moved to lie back down. This time, Daisuke did touch him, leaning in to support his descent to the ground, back to the folded jacket. Much to Ken's surprise, Daisuke's gloved hand settled on his head, gently stroking the hair out of his face. It reminded him of the way his mother used to do when he was much younger.
"Why did you stay?" the words slipped out of Ken's mouth before he'd even realized he was thinking them.
Daisuke's hand froze suddenly. "What?"
Ken flinched. It was too late to take it back. "You chose to stay with me. Why?"
"What're you talking about?" Daisuke replied, as if the question were the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard. "I'm not just going to leave you alone like this."
"But you could have asked Miyako-san or Iori-kun to stay instead."
Daisuke fell silent. Ken couldn't see his face from where he was lying, so when Daisuke spoke again, Ken was surprised - even through the fog, he thought he had never heard Daisuke sound so… heartbroken.
"Do…. Did you not want me here?"
As if suddenly possessed, Ken shot off the ground, whirling to face Daisuke, and knocking poor Minomon just enough to jostle him awake. "I didn't say that!" Ken cried defensively, eyes searching out Daisuke's face.
The world turned grey, the spots returned, and he swallowed the bile he could feel rising in his throat. Daisuke just stared at him with his mouth agape and eyes wide in surprise. Minomon, still half-asleep, blearily stared up at both of them. Ken breathed heavily, waiting for some kind of response from Daisuke. After what seemed like hours of silent eye contact, Daisuke pulled his gaze away, glancing sidelong at Chibimon, still nestled beside him.
"If something were to happen to you, and I hadn't been here to do anything about it? I'd probably never forgive myself," he replied softly, absently reaching down to stroke Chibimon's head. "You're my best friend. So… it had to be me."
Ken was at a loss for words. His chest ached. Wordlessly, Minomon crawled up beside him, resting tiny feet on his leg. He almost didn't notice.
"...Motomiya…" Ken breathed, an attempt to break the awkward silence.
"...Why do you still call me that?"
"What?"
Daisuke finally looked up at him, a strange tinge of sadness pulling at his normally bright eyes.
" 'Motomiya'. I've been calling you 'Ken' for years now. And you call literally every other one of the chosen by their given names… except me. I mean, you did it once, but now that kinda feels like it was just an accident."
Everything was blurry around the edges. Ken inhaled, then exhaled. In his mind, he always thought of him as 'Daisuke', but his best friend was right - he almost never called him that out loud. Especially when others were around. He had never given it much thought, but now that Daisuke brought it up, he felt a stab of guilt.
"Sorry," Daisuke continued, averting his eyes again, absently rubbing the back of his neck. "I've got the worst timing ever…"
"I didn't realize you felt that way," replied Ken, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I just thought, we were closer than that, ya know? … Was I wrong?"
Those eyes looked up at him again, and Ken felt as though a knife had been run through his heart.
"Yes! -No! I mean…" he fumbled, and reached for Daisuke's arm. His lungs burned. His head throbbed. There wasn't enough air. "You're wrong, about this. Of course we're close. You… aside from Wormmon, you were my first real friend. You two were the only ones who accepted me when I couldn't even accept myself. There is no one else I know, who compares to you."
The world around him was growing darker at the edges. Desperate to keep him in focus, and maybe a bit delirious, Ken reached trembling hands for Daisuke's face. His cheeks felt cool in his burning palms, fingertips brushing temples, soft hairs tickling his knuckles.
"...Ken?" Wide brown eyes peered back at him in confusion as Ken pulled himself closer.
"I want you to know… you are precious to me, Motomiya. Daisuke."
Maybe it was the fever. Maybe it was the way he felt reality slipping away from him, and this was his last ditch effort to hold onto it. Maybe he though, Daisuke hadn't heard him well enough. He could, and likely would, think of a thousand excuses, later. Whatever the reason, Ken chose that moment to unceremoniously, and with no grace whatsoever, crush his lips against Daisuke's.
Maybe it wasn't what Daisuke had had in mind, but in Ken's fuzzy, bleeding world, deprived of oxygen, he could have sworn he felt Daisuke's fingers thread through his hair. Ken felt suddenly light headed, as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. How long had it been since he'd been able to draw a full breath? His mind blinked in and out, and his shaking hands slipped from Daisuke's face, catching on his collarbones. Their lips broke apart, and Ken gasped for air. He dimly noticed that Daisuke did the same. Gloved fingers slipped from his dark hair, to his neck, Daisuke's face hovering so close that Ken felt him more than he saw him, their noses nearly touching. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"...Ken?" Daisuke's voice cracked, one syllable, full of confusion and uncertainty. Ken felt Daisuke's breath against his own wavering lips.
"I…" Ken tried, but he was still alarmingly short of breath. Pale fingers curled and uncurled at the neck of Daisuke's t-shirt. His glassy eyes wandered, but his vision did not clear.
"...You…?" Daisuke awkwardly urged him to continue, his voice distant and tinny in Ken's ears.
He tried again, but his throat closed. "-C-can't… Bre… "
Ken didn't get to finish his sentence. He heard the sound of his name as if from far away, and the world closed in around him.
Author's Notes: I am a horrible, horrible human being for leaving you guys on that cliffhanger, and I'm sorry, but also not sorry. :3 Hue hue hue. That's it for part 3! I was able to crank this out so quickly because I ended up accidentally working on parts 2 and 3 simultaneously. I wasn't planning on this story getting to be longer thank this, but things can run away from you before you know it, and here we are, headed into part 4. This one is going to take some more planning, and I don't have a head-start on this one, so please be patient. :) Thank You!