Play of Spirits
Chapter 23 - Black Tunnel

Kouichi didn't register the significance of being alone straight away, because he was used to waking to an empty house. It didn't mean he liked it – because he didn't – but it happened a lot since his mother was often working the graveyard shifts nobody else wanted.

It paid the bills, she'd say. And they needed her, because who else would willingly take graveyard shifts? Kouichi still thought it was unfair, because they'd made it work before they'd found someone they could pile them all on, and they'd make it work if they ever lost her. But he also knew his mother would keep on doing them, because living was expensive, no matter how frugal they tried to be.

And until he was old enough to get a proper job instead of babysitting for the kids in the apartment above them or helping the kind old lady next door with the housework, there isn't a whole lot he can do about that. His classmates didn't understand either, why he never hung around before or after school, why he wasn't a part of any clubs, why he rarely went to the weekend scrimmages they hold. He could help with the housework, at least. Do his own dishes before school so his mother was only cleaning the ones she uses during the day. Sweep every odd day so she wasn't working a broom or a mop when she should be resting her back. It wasn't hard; elementary school wasn't that demanding and their apartment was small. The hard thing was getting more than just a tired wan smile on his mother's face.

He wasn't doing enough. His classmates said that, when he'd rather go home than hang around after-school. His teachers said that, when he didn't sign up for any clubs or socialise with his friends (though that's really the only complaint they have, because he participated in class and got decent marks and did all his homework and all that, because he really didn't want a detention). Even his mother said that sometimes, but she said it with trembling hands and a sore back and bags under her eyes, so he couldn't bring himself to obey her. Because if he didn't help, then all those things will just be worse, and they were bad enough.

That made him remember he's been away for at least a week now. She'd be worried sick, he thought guiltily.

'Do you want to go home?'

He jumped. He was sure he'd been alone and, though he'd been keeping an eye and ear out, he hadn't seen or heard anything.

And yet, DarkTrailmon was parked behind him as though there was a station there, and Kouichi didn't even remember seeing tracks.

'Do you want to go home?' DarkTrailmon repeated.

Did he want to go home? Of course he did, but he was alone. There was an issue with that, because there were six humans in this world, and until he woke up here, he'd been with four of them.

'What's more important to you?' the DarkTrailmon wondered aloud, when Kouichi didn't answer his initial question. 'Your family, or your new friends?'

'…that's not a fair question.' And that was a non-answer he gave in return. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed.

'Which do you want to go to? I can take you there.'

Ah. So DarkTrailmon's questions had a purpose then. But DarkTrailmon was a problem in and of itself. He remembered the other time he'd ridden him. How he and Takuya had stumbled their way into the light again.

Not to say that would be a common occurrence, because the Trailmon that Tomoki, Izumi and Junpei had been on had left them stranded mid-air and Bokomon swore up and down that Trailmon usually kept all their wheels on the ground.

'You'll have plenty of time to think about which you want on the way there,' DarkTrailmon offered.

'You're offering me a free ride?' Kouichi checked. 'Why?'

'You won't go anywhere standing still,' the DarkTrailmon returned.

…was he like the Digital World's Cheshire cat?

.

The inside of the DarkTrailmon was pretty normal looking, despite Kouichi's apprehension. He sat on one of the longer seats, where he could stretch out of the journey was long. And who knew how long the journey would be, when he didn't even know where he was going.

Game… why did that female voice call it a game? That made it seem less consequential, but this… this felt too real to be just a virtual game. And shouldn't there be contracts or something? Tossing six kids into these circumstances and expecting them to figure things out on the way was akin to kidnapping, unless their parents had agreed beforehand…

He didn't know about the others, but he was pretty sure his mother would never agree to something like this. And it wasn't just that she'd worry. No matter what the return would be, she didn't want to put him in the sort of situation that would make her dependent on him. 'It's the parent's job to look after their children,' she'd say. She too often refused even the smatterings he made while babysitting, saying it was his and he'd earned it and he should treat himself instead. So he saved it for presents and some of his own expenses: bus fares and stationary and that sort of thing, and sometimes books from the second hand store and no-one can accuse him for not indulging himself (even if everybody still does).

Still, when they realised they were stuck with no way home, they'd sort of just gone along with things. Now though…

'Do you want to go home?'

Yes, of course he wanted to go home. But what about the others? If this was a game in the sense of being virtual, and lacking consequences if they lost or took penalties or caused collateral damage along the way, then he'd still be abandoning five people here (one of whom was his own brother). On the other hand, if he didn't take the chance to go home, his mother…

The only way out of that would be to pick up the others, then go home with everyone, and that was assuming this world was just virtual and didn't actually need help – which was a far leap to made, considering the information at their disposal. It just felt too real. And Bokomon and Neemon, and their spirits that didn't quite fit with them…

'One trip only,' DarkTrailmon spoke up.

Well, that got rid of that possibility, anyway. He did have to choose.

If this world really did need help, or if the others were in trouble, was there even any choice? It took all of them to manage the factory, and even then Grumblemon got the best of them.

But 'kaa-san…

He slumped sideways on the seats. He was just going in circles like this. Too many ifs and buts but he had to make a decision despite all of that.

When it came to worry, of course his mother would worry the most.

When it came to need… Did his mother even need him?

He screamed silently and shut his eyes. Don't even go there! But he couldn't help but go there, because his mother only had to work so hard because he was there. His mother often couldn't get second dates because he was there, because few people wanted a woman with a pre-teen child. And he knew his mother wouldn't accept someone who wouldn't tolerate him, but at the same time that meant he was holding her back.

Usually he preferred his mother's friends' version: he was a damn good filter. And it made him feel a bit better when they used him as an excuse to test their own dates, because why not? But that didn't mean he could always believe it. And when his mother would say she was never lonely because she knew he'd be home waiting for her, he could believe it sometimes and, sometimes not. And, sometimes, she worried out loud he was the lonely one, because she was never there in the mornings when he left for school and often left before he'd gone to bed, and he didn't have any friends close enough to invite over (mainly because he never spent time with them outside of school).

And right now, no-one was there to tell him one way or the other, so his thoughts ran rampant.

.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, the train was gone. And, this time, it was pitch black.

Night vision didn't help if there wasn't some source of light, somewhere. He shuffled forward blindly, remembering how Takuya had almost stepped off the platform and a train had dropped him off so presumably there'd be a platform.

He shuffled into something taller than him and warm, instead. Too familiar and warm, and with the smell of hospital grade antiseptic clinging like it did to any set of clothes his mother wore to work.

But why was it so dark? Why couldn't he see her?

''kaa-san?'

A hand came up to stroke his hair. 'Kou-chan,' she said gently.

He buried his face into her chest. 'It's dark.' It came out almost a whimper.

The hand gently flicked his bangs. 'The light hurts your eyes.' And that was just stating the fact. Not encouraging. Not discouraging. Not giving her own opinion.

He remembered DarkTrailmon's words. 'You'll have time to think on the way there.'

I'm not anywhere right now.

He felt a rush of gratitude anyway. If this was the dream, or DarkTrailmon's doing, or reality… Even if he was just talking to a figment of his imagination with his mother's voice…

'I'm sorry.' It still wasn't easy to say.

The hand stilled.

'I left without even leaving a note, and it's been ages and I still –'

'You didn't come back.'

He freezes. But then his mother's hand is rubbing his back gently like his grandmother used to, when he was too young to be at home alone. Some argued he was still too young, but what choice was there now? His grandmother had gotten too old for apartment steps, and now she was gone.

He didn't come back. But he hadn't chosen yet, had he?

'I – ' he began, and then stopped. What would he say?

He should have just told her what his grandmother had said. Even if it was something she clearly didn't want to talk about, because he'd gone chasing after it anyway and made that confrontation inevitable.

It wouldn't have had to be like this then. But he was never good at grabbing bulls by their horns.

'Obaa-chan told me,' he began. He wished he could see her face. And in the next moment, was glad he couldn't. 'That I have a twin brother.'

Her body stiffened.

It was remarkable how much one could make out, even without their sight. Or make up, as the case might have been. But, for now, this was just as real.

He closed his own eyes. No point having them open when he couldn't see anything, after all.

'I should have mentioned it then, but I – I wondered why you'd never said anything before. And I was confused, because that was like a justification for why 'tou-san didn't even try to keep in contact. The same reason you poured everything into me even though you had another son, when I'd spent so long thinking he'd just abandoned us, but maybe… I don't know.' The words stalled. The thoughts swirled.

'But if you accused your father of that now, you'd accuse me too?' his mother asked.

'Yes,' he admitted.

'And do you?' she asked, after a pause.

Do I? He wondered. As a young child whose father suddenly vanished from his life, it was easy to blame him. But now, he knew it was more complicated than that. Really, he'd known as he grew older but it was just easier to keep on blaming the invisible figure, the shadow in his memories. 'I'm to blame too, for forgetting.'

She hugged him tightly. 'Young children see everything but remember almost nothing,' she said softly. 'As the adults, we bear more of the fault. And for keeping quiet about things you'd eventually know…'

Well, he'd done exactly the same thing.

'Where did you go?' his mother prompted, when the silence comfortably stretched.

'Shibuya,' Kouichi replied. 'But I somehow wound up in another world.'

'Oh?' There's no opinion in her tone again. No judgement.

It's not real. But it's also okay, because he can say all of this again. The first time's the harder one.

'Mmm. There are six of us. And the natural inhabitants called Digimon.' And he babbled a bit after that, giving snippets he wasn't sure anyone who hadn't been there could string together, but his mother just hummed and didn't comment until the words stopped tumbling out of his mouth.

'Do they need you there?' she asked, finally.

Did they? Was it egotistical to think "yes"?

No, he didn't think so. They'd stormed the factory because they'd been together… sans Kouji, but that was an issue they'd been attempting to rectify. As for why they were there… There had to be a reason. The mysterious voice on their D-scanners called it a game, but the world seemed far too intricate for that. Bokomon told them old stories, old legends. Told them about the current world wherein the three Angels had faded from the public scene without warning, leaving an ominous echo behind.

'I think they do,' he said finally. 'And I need them too.'

He wouldn't have found his way out of that black space without Takuya, and Takuya would have fallen off the platform and landed who knew where without him, and that was just their first meeting.

'We need each other,' he repeated.

'Then it's okay,' said his mother. 'Just come back safely, when you're done. And introduce these new friends of yours.'

'And Kouji.' Because he was going to find Kouji, even if he had made it harder for himself by not speaking up when he had the chance.

'And Kouji,' his mother agreed.

Her touch lightened, then vanished, and DarkTrailmon's voice was in his ears again. 'Sounds like you've made your choice.'

Kouichi opened his mouth to ask, but thought against it. He didn't really need to know the specifics. He opened his eyes and sat up instead.

Outside the train were rows of… was that wheat?

'End of the line,' said DarkTrailmon. 'See you around, kid.'

'Thank you,' Kouichi replied, stepping out of the train and into the wheat field.

The DarkTrailmon vanished into a cloud of smoke, like it had never been there to begin with. And again, Kouichi wondered how it had gotten there in the first place. There were no tracks. No station. Just wheat that reached up over his head.

'Kouichi!'

He turned. Ah, there were all the others. And a tall green cactus that he wondered how he'd missed before.

'Where have you been?' Tomoki asked. 'The ToyAgumon couldn't find you at all.'

'DarkTrailmon was giving me a lift.' Kouichi blinked. ToyAgumon?

'DarkTrailmon,' Takuya repeated. 'Did he get you lost again?'

'Kind of.' He hadn't really wandered very far this time. 'It was more… helping me work a few things out.' He tugged at his sleeves. His mother had been right about him being lonely, hadn't she? Not that it invalidated him saying the same to her. 'I'm going to talk to my mother when we get back. And maybe… my father too.'

'That's great!' Izumi hugged him suddenly. 'It's so much easier to just ignore things, you know.'

Until they went and exploded, anyway.

'…wait, so you haven't run into Grumblemon or Ranamon?' Junpei checked.

'…no?' Ranamon?

His mystified look reminded the others he'd missed a few things.

Scratch that, he thought, once they'd finished breakfast (he'd been on the DarkTrailmon all night!) and explaining things. He'd missed a lot.