author's note: So. I've loved Digimon Tamers for a long, long time. I always wanted to write stories for the fandom but could never brainstorm anything that felt worthwhile. With the resurgence of Digimon projects in recent years, I was inspired to come back to ffnet, sit down, and really think through potential concepts.

I decided the characters being young adults would be a major cornerstone for the story. Also wound up taking a lot of influences from Cyber Sleuth. I'm a big fan of the thematic world building and iconography explored in the games even if the character work isn't as strong as the shows. And from there, things just started flowing naturally. You shouldn't need to have played the games to understand the story. If something is confusing, however, don't be afraid to ask. I want it to make sense and stand alone as primarily a Tamers project.

My goal is to aim for a shorter, more episodic structure while I get my feet wet in this fandom. I'm expecting to finish at around five to ten chapters. There are pairings: they're already pre-established and extrapolated from canon, which means Jurato and Ryuki. I didn't put pairings in the tags because they're not meant to be the main focus, but if that bugs people I can always change it.

Title references A Streetcar Named Desire.

"That night, while he slept, the tide moved.

The long arms of the moon

Reached inside him pulling the Pacific free.

When he woke the next morning,

He lay in a puddle of ocean that was his."

—The Ocean Inside Him

"I had the dream again."

Weak dawn light crept through the east window of their apartment. It chased the shadows lurking beneath the furniture and cabinetry; banished them from the portrait of Renamon commissioned for Rika's twenty-first birthday. Drawn in flowing yamato-e style, the bold yellow fur burned vibrant gold among the soft pink cherry blossom petals. It maintained a place of pride above the mantle of the small apartment, right alongside Ryo's prized collection of signed Haruki Murakami books.

The warm, rich scent of brewing coffee battled the early morning chill. Rika shivered, drawing the kotatsu blanket further over her knees. Ryo's words took a moment to penetrate her sleep-smothered thoughts.

"What, were you naked in front of class?"

"That sounds more like one of your dreams, babe."

Rika snorted. Ryo padded over holding a steaming cup of coffee, dressed in his construction uniform. It served a sharp contrast to her own loose sleepwear. He had already prepared for work an hour ago, having to leave much earlier than her. They were both light sleepers.

The heat from the coffee swirled upward, buffeting her face. She inhaled deeply, a caffeine tingle dancing along her arms, and took a grateful swig. As the years passed Rika became less and less of a morning person.

"It was the ocean nightmare," Ryo said.

Rika frowned.

Everything is dark and cold, he had said several weeks back after waking her with his thrashing, I'm not sure if they're storm clouds or if it's always like that. There's a girl beside me and she won't stop crying. The dark ocean breathes in and out to the rhythm of the moon. I can't see it, but I know it's there beyond the pale somewhere watching me.

"Have you talked to Dr. Nishikawa about this yet?"

"Yeah." Ryo smiled a little ruefully. "She wants to prescribe me more Zoloft."

"More? Again? Maybe we should consider a new psychiatrist." Rika took an aggressive sip of coffee. It cleared her head and focused her protective outrage.

"That shouldn't be necessary. It's only a dream, anyway. And I turned down the dosage increase." Ryo cleared his throat. He disliked bouncing from shrink to shrink, Rika knew, but it bothered her how much they often failed to help given how much they often charged. "Don't worry, just figured it was worth mentioning."

"Weird dreams make me suspicious. I can't help it."

Ryo laughed, fetching his own mug before settling beside her. "Jealous you weren't there?"

Rika decided against dignifying that with an answer. But she let the matter rest for his sake.

Ryo had a specific ritual when prepping his own coffee. He always added one teaspoon of cream, two sugar cubes, stirred three time counterclockwise, added another teaspoon of cream, and stirred three more times clockwise. It was simple yet methodical. Rika drank hers black.

"Oh, yeah, I'll be getting home late tonight," he said. "They really want us to meet the deadline for that new Kamishiro building and are offering overtime. Do you think you could swing by the store and pick up groceries? Unless you want to sustain yourself on coffee and takeout."

"Sure, no problem." Rika drained her drink. "Just do me a favor and send a list of what we need."

Smiling, Ryo leaned over and kissed her cheek. His lips were warm but chapped. "Thanks. Have a good day at work. And tell the others I said hey."

Something Henry had learned over the years about e-mails was their ability to multiply exponentially. He could clear his inbox then turn off his phone, set aside his D-Power, and leave his computer for a lunch break only to come back an hour later and find twenty plus e-mails cluttering said inbox once more. Inventory every morning was a monotonous chore. It was, Henry reflected, the curse of handling the managerial side of their detective agency.

Still, he was the only one suited for the job. Rika could and did help from time to time, but it was not her strength; Takato was a disaster behind a desk, harboring the ever-present potential to accidentally commit tax fraud. He excelled out in the field. Not to mention Henry had connections no one else did.

He clicked through the messages. Spam, delete; Kamishiro Enterprises, delete; Yamaki, delete. Then Henry came across a strange yet familiar handle:

From: A

To: Henry Wong

Subject: are all digivolutions transitive?

"The object of the superior man is truth."

Henry pressed down the button of his pen. Click, click, click. If a equaled rookie and c equaled mega, surely that would explain biomerging, but—

His D-Power beeped. He looked over at it, frowning slightly.

T-dawg: Borrow money from a pessimist. They don't expect it back.

Henry rolled his eyes. He never thought he would miss "moumentai" and yet here they were. Swiveling in his chair, Henry typed a response. Another loud beep rang out.

Henry: Did you manage to get the recording?

When he glanced at his laptop's screen, the e-mail glowered back. Henry's frown deepened. This was not the first time this happened. But what could it mean? Nothing good, that was for sure.

T-dawg: Of course! Who the hell do you think I am?!

Henry: You really need to cut down on the anime.

Terriermon sent him a video file. Henry refused to click on it; he had been rickrolled one time too many to fall for that trick again.

The door to their office space opened with a warning jingle. Rika breezed in, shucking off her coat and adjusting her sunglasses, hair windswept and burnished even constrained in its conservative bun.

"You're here early," she said, hanging her apparel on the coat rack. She had worn a dark blue suit and pinstripe skirt to work.

Morning sunlight wanly lit up the room. Henry loved their small, spartan office space. It was minimalist perfection—not to mention a bargain lease given its location on Nakano Broadway.

The office had two rooms, the first a foyer for meeting with clients. The furniture and decorations were warm tones of black and brown, with the occasional contrasting red, blue, and green splash. The second room was a conference room shared between Takato, Rika, and Henry. A coffee machine, tea kettle, and microwave occupied a kitchenette tucked away in the back, alongside stationery and memorabilia from their families and friends.

Next to the fax machine hummed a curious yellow, spherical computer. Henry's greatest accomplishment: the access point. He had promised himself and the others he would find a way to reunite with the digimon, and he had succeeded. The access point took their consciousness and projected it into avatars capable of inhabiting the Digital World while their physical bodies remained in the Real World. It was the ultimate compromise.

Henry leaned back in the chair, brushing aside his melancholy with a sigh.

"Just wanted to get a head start on the day. I'll probably be wrapping up that cheating investigation soon. Terriermon found tapes."

Rika uttered a disgusted sound. "Honestly, if you're suspicious enough to hire a private investigator for your spouse, isn't your marriage already screwed?"

She sat down opposite Henry, pulling out her own laptop.

"Should probably be looking into counseling at the very least, yeah." Henry answered the question the mysterious A had sent him: Yes. Hit reply. The email folded up and flew away, off along invisible packets of data across the world wide web to somewhere unknown. Rika muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'So stupid.' "Did you hear EDEN might be opening to the public soon?"

Rika stilled.

"A few rumors." She sounded cautious. "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing." Technically true. Henry changed the subject. "I'll be visiting Terriermon and Guilmon when Takato gets here. A new client contacted me last night, implied it was fairly urgent. Could you handle it?"

"Sure. Forward me the e-mail."

They both went quiet after that. The tapping of fingers on keyboards filled the silence. Henry paused to brew a pot of tea. His stomach growled, but Takato was running late, meaning food should be arriving soon.

Shadows shrank further and further as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. What was that The Sun Also Rises quote? What rot. What rot, indeed. American college had been a mistake; western nihilism did not mix well with Henry's natural tendency toward fatalism.

An hour later, the front door banged open as Takato careened in.

"Sorry I'm late!" He slammed a tinfoil-wrapped basket on the table. Henry and Rika sipped their tea and exchanged knowing glances. "But I come bearing gifts!"

"About time." Rika leaned forward, tugging at the foil. Takato slapped her hand away with a grin.

"Seriously? You two need to learn to feed yourselves." He combed his wild mane of hair out of his face. Of the three, Takato had changed the most over the years. He no longer wore goggles and sported an equally unruly beard, bearing a somewhat unsettling resemblance to the late Shibumi. "By the way, Henry, Jeri wanted me to thank you. She really enjoyed that tai chi lesson."

Henry blinked. He had enjoyed himself, too, which Henry never would have expected when Takato first suggested it. Henry was not as close to Jeri as the others, but going through the beginner's module with her had been relaxing.

"Glad to hear it. Has she been practicing five minutes every day?"

"Yup."

"Well, she's welcome to stop by again whenever."

Takato grinned, pulling out two loaves of sweet-smelling bread, uttering a little 'tada!' Henry's mouth watered and he gulped in unison with Rika.

"Jeri and my dad came up with this great new flavor. It's bean paste mixed with cinnamon and raisins. It tastes awesome. I can't wait to share some with Guilmon! What do you guys think?" Takato asked, handing them their breakfast.

Henry took a restrained bite, chewing thoughtful and focused. The soft, warm rye flaked in his mouth, the gooey bean paste center exploding when he bit down. A loud grumble rumbled from his stomach, eliciting snickers from both Takato and Rika. Ignoring them, Henry swallowed with great dignity.

"It's fantastic."

Rika nodded her agreement, still smirking.

Takato beamed.

"You're done?"

"Yeah!"

"But there's still bread left…"

Guilmon tilted his head. He placed a talon on the lip of his muzzle. "Yeah?"

"Did you not like it?" Takato asked.

They were sitting in Henry's DigiLab. Henry had described EDEN before as a metaverse, a proxy server between the Real World and the Digital World. While Takato sort of understood the general gist, the whole idea just felt too large for him to truly get. But if it meant he could see Guilmon again, he did not particularly care either way.

"I loved it!" Guilmon responded with a toothy grin and emphatic head bob. "I'm just full."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense," Takato said, even though that was a lie.

They were not supposed to even get hungry here, so how could they get full? Hell, the bread was not real, none of this was real, it was all data reconstituted from his mind. Mental framework, according to Henry. None of it was real.

Guilmon had changed in the years they had spent apart. He was quieter, now. More mature. Takato struggled with how to feel about it, struggled with how to process that his child had grown up without him. It felt akin to grasping sand in a broken hourglass or trying to fit warped pieces into an old puzzle.

"If Guilmon won't finish, I will," Terriermon chirped from the other side of the lab.

"Sure." Takato frowned. "Oh, wait, actually—I'm meeting with Beelzemon. Save some for him."

Guilmon cocked his head again.

"Aw, that's fucking bullshit," Terriermon complained. Takato started.

"Language."

Henry had not even looked up from the touchscreen he was scrolling through. The whole lab was stark white, lit by bright colored holograms filled with programs Henry had personally designed. A looming pillar of monitors stood in the center, drooping over each other at the stem like a bone-bleached bouquet of begonias frozen on the verge of withering away.

Terriermon huffed but hopped over to Takato without further complaint, swiping some bread in sulky silence.

Renamon was quiet too, leaning against the far wall, her gaze fixed on Henry's back. That she had shown up without Rika around was somewhat surprising. Then again, Takato always struggled when connecting with the indomitable kitsune. He did not understand her.

"Well, we should probably get moving. C'mon, boy." Takato felt hot and itchy. He fiddled with the collar of his suit and wished, not for the first time, that he could wear something a little more casual. Henry had insisted on professionalism from all three of them, though. They were a business now, apparently, not just a group of rag tag kids marauding (Henry's word, not Takato's) through Shinjuku Park. It was a minor miracle he let Takato keep the beard.

Henry waved absentmindedly in acquiescence, still hyper-focused on the screen. Guilmon heeled to Takato's side.

Standing up, Takato approached the access pad, typing in the URL Beelzemon had sent him. A brief magenta glow lit him up from the inside out as the data stream triggered. He vanished alongside Guilmon in a blink, reappearing somewhere else a blink later. They had landed on the newest layer of the Digital World.

Everything spun. The cracked badlands tilted on their axis, while the hovering, moon-like Earth and EDEN both flipped upside down. Woozy, Takato staggered back, only for Guilmon to bolster him. It helped Takato stabilize and recover his bearings.

"Thanks." Takato scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

"No problem!" Guilmon butted his forehead lightly against Takato's knee. "Why are we visiting Beelzemon? Is it for the same reason as last time?"

Takato was thankful for Guilmon's maturation. He would not have wanted to answer these questions around Henry and Renamon.

"Yeah."

Guilmon said nothing else.

The beating of wings distracted them both. A dark feather fluttered onto the bridge of Guilmon's nose; Guilmon sneezed. Beelzemon landed several feet away, kicking up a storm of sand and dust in the process.

"Ladies." He strode forward. A familiar white digimon popped his head over Beelzemon's shoulder, waving happily at Guilmon. Guilmon happily waved back.

"Ha ha, very funny. I brought you some food, by the way. You're welcome," Takato said, not particularly offended. Beelzemon clapped him on the shoulder with a large, heavy claw.

"Whadda I look like, a charity case?" Beelzemon turned away, sticking out a hand. Grinning, Takato passed over the first loaf. Beelzemon took a careless munch and spoke with his mouth full: "Anyway, I checked out that abandoned village, but it was another dead end."

He swallowed and stuck out his hand again. Takato gave him another loaf.

"This is boring." Calumon hopped off Beelzmon, floating onto Guilmon's back and stealing some bread in the process. "Wanna play?"

Guilmon shot Takato a questioning look.

"Stay where I can see you."

"Okay!" Guilmon took off to chase Calumon around a rock pillar.

Beelzemon, meanwhile, finished his second loaf of bread, moving onto a third with an impatient hand gesture. Takato relinquished the gift. He was down to his last loaf.

"No rumors either?" Takato asked.

Calumon tried eating his bread and running at the same time. This proved to be a mistake, for he started choking, forcing Guilmon to pump his abdomen.

"Nope. Nada. Zilch."

Calumon spat out the bread. It flew in a high arc before landing a foot or so away. Calumon crumpled to the ground. Guilmon hovered over the small white digimon, sniffing his body worriedly.

"I don't get it," Takato said. "How could a digimon as big and strong and scary as Cyberdramon just vanish into thin air?"

Calumon leapt to his feet, ears exploding to their full length. Guilmon tripped over his feet and fell on his tail, and both started giggling. Weirdoes. But their childish antics brightened Takato's mood.

"Might not wanna be found," Beelzemon commented. "Doesn't help this place has gotten damn huge. Seems to double, triple in size every year. 'Sides, who knows if he's even Cyberdramon anymore, given the chaos of the Reset."

The Reset had brought everything in the Digital World back to its most basic form. From what Takato understood, the recovery process following the destruction of the D-Reaper and the repercussions of the Reset had been enormously difficult and stressful. Not for the first time, immense guilt pierced him, swiftly eradicating his brief cheeriness.

"That's why I don't get why Ryo just gave up!" Takato blurted out, frustrated. "He could be Monodramon right now, lost and alone and scared somewhere…"

"Be easier with his Tamer helpin', that's for sure. Y'know, could always ask Renamon about this. She'd bring it up to Rika."

"No, I—Rika's on Ryo's side. I don't want to bother them over this, they probably have a good reason. I just… don't get it."

When Takato had mentioned it to Rika once, she told him to leave it alone. And he had—with them anyway—because he did not really understand Ryo at all, either. But even so, Cyberdramon deserved to be remembered, not left behind. There was more to him than being Ryo's partner, same as the other digimon.

Takato stuck his hands in his pockets, sighing. The thought anyone might not want to be with their digital partner boggled his mind, especially given Jeri could never be with Leomon again. It was incomprehensible. Why would anyone stop searching for their best friend and closest companion?

But maybe once he saved Cyberdramon, whatever had broken between them could be fixed. Takato let himself imagine it for a moment: the two running toward each other on a beach into each other's arms, laughing and reunited and joyful, triumphant orchestral music soaring in the background. Just like when Takato met Guilmon again after so many years apart. Well, minus the music part.

As if sensing his thoughts, Guilmon trotted beside him, nuzzling his hand. Takato scratched him behind the ears with a tender smile, the soft yet pebbled texture of the scales there pleasant beneath the fingertips. Guilmon hummed from deep in his chest, almost vibrating with pleasure.

"So, uh… how's Jeri?" Beelzemon's question shook Takato out of his musings.

"Oh. She's doing okay." Takato ran a hand through his hair. A familiar surge of worry mixed with anxiety churned his stomach. "Offering her a job at the bakery has really been helping, though. She loves her dad but I don't think working for him was... good for her. And she said she liked learning tai chi from Henry."

The nightmares had been worsening lately, though. It made Takato feel so helpless.

"Good." Beelzemon sounded gruff.

Takato stared up at the sky. Earth twinkled like a diamond in the bright blue expanse. And beside it, EDEN; a blob of white octagons that seemed larger every time Takato laid eyes on them. A proxy server, Henry had said. So why did it feel so much bigger than that? An enormous entity capable of blotting out the moon.

Sometimes Henry scared Takato. Takato had created his own digimon. Henry had created his own world.

Fumiko Hada squirmed in her seat across from Rika. She was supposedly a famous idol, although Rika made it a point to avoid most Japanese entertainment out of principle. (And perhaps a healthy dose of residual spite.) Rika set down some tea for the girl and her manager, a quiet older man known as Haru Ogawa. His dark hair was flecked with silver and he had severe eyes.

Well, this was unexpected. Just the fact they had accepted and scheduled an appointment so quickly took Rika by surprise. Henry mentioned it was urgent and he had not exaggerated.

"You'll be discrete?" Hada asked.

She looked so young, fiddling with a jet-black strand of tightly curled hair.

Rika had been a teenager once, too. Those days were strange to recall. How did five years feel short and long at the same time? Surely, she had never looked that young though. Hada's clothes were bright and feminine and expensive. Rika could recognize silk blindfolded after growing up in the Nonaka household.

"Of course. Here at Cyber Sleuth Agency, we practice strict confidentiality with our clients."

Hada looked relieved.

"This is a delicate situation. It requires subtlety. A deft touch," Ogawa said, voice deep and grave.

"I understand," Rika reassured them, trying not to sound annoyed. She had the nagging sense Ogawa was infantilizing her. "Although I'll need a little more information to go on."

They had been evasive for the past half hour. It was proving rather tiresome, even by Japanese standards. Rika's social skills had improved leaps and bounds over the years, but she still had limits. Hada and Ogawa exchanged covert glances. Rika stifled an eye roll.

"The blackmail is pictures of Miss Hada in rather… uncompromising positions," Ogawa explained eventually. Hada reddened, staring at her fingernails.

"Ah. I see." Sympathy softened Rika's stance. "How did they deliver the messages and images? Phone? E-mail?"

"How is that relevant."

Rika's brow twitched. She put on a fake smile and spoke sweetly: "They likely hacked her cloud data, which leaves a footprint"—in the Digital World, anyway—"for us to trace."

"I'm not sure you understand the severity of this situation, Miss Nonaka." Ogawa scowled. "Just seeking out freelancers could embarrass the company. And that's setting aside the images themselves. If even a hint of their existence leaks, it will ruin Miss Hada's career."

They were talking circles around each other again. Rika's façade cracked. "Mr. Ogawa, we are investigators who specialize in cybercrimes, not magicians. I understand your concerns and will do everything in my power to protect Miss Hada's interests, but you must co-operate with me if we're to make headway on the case."

Ogawa stood up, towering over them both. Rika met his gaze evenly. Hada bit her lip and, after a moment of hesitation, tugged on the sleeve of Ogawa's suit. He glanced at her then back at Rika.

"Very well. I'll wait outside while Miss Hada shares more details with you."

He stiffly walked out. Rika wiped her sweaty palms on the fringes of her skirt.

"Sorry," Hada said, still worrying at her lower lip.

"It's fine." The fake smile was back in place. Rika's voice went up an octave, a trick she found often set people more at ease. "What else can you tell me?"

"Oh… well… the pictures were on my p-phone, and he texted me too. I think I know who it is, though."

Rika blinked before gesturing for Hada to continue. The girl blushed.

"A couple weeks ago, after a show, I was out late with one of the other idols in our group. T-there were two fans there who tried to grab us, but we got away. No one should've known what hotel we were staying at, so I think they… might've known something?"

Or they were stalkers. But Rika instead nodded and refrained from commenting on it. "Did you tell anyone about this? Were the police involved?"

Hada shook her head.

"Why not?" Rika asked, more sharply than intended. Hada flinched.

"B-because it was our fault. We stayed out past our curfew…" she said in a small voice.

Rika stared. Then she took a deep breath, a mental Renamon urging compassion in the back of her head. Mostly Rika just wanted to head outside and kick Ogawa's ass, though. "Did you happen to get names? Or see what they looked like?"

"Um, they were heavyset. Glasses. Dark hair… it was kind of dark out."

Rika nodded, scribbling notes down. "May I keep your cell overnight?"

Hada hesitated, grip on the smartphone tightening. Then, slowly, she stretched out her hand, relinquishing it onto Rika's desk. It was the latest model iPhone, a flashy thing. Henry would no doubt launch into a rant about Apple products when he saw it. A rant almost as riveting to hear about as the differences between symmetrical and asymmetrical encryption.

"Thank you. I'll see you out."

Rika escorted Hada off the premise into the waiting arms of her manager. Ogawa nodded curtly before guiding the girl away, hand resting on the small of her back. Rika bowed her head until the elevator dinged shut.

Tension drained out of Rika's frame. She sighed, closing her eyes, an arm braced against the elevator frame. One of the many things she had hated most about modeling was putting on a false front. But there seemingly was no occupation where that was not necessary. Just exhausting.

Rika returned to the conference room, Hada's cell phone in tow. Takato and Henry's bodies were still huddled around the access point, staring vacantly at the glowing screen. Creepy. And, ew, Takato was drooling again. She hated to think about what she looked like while using that machine.

Rika thumped into her seat, attaching the iPhone to her D-Power. Renamon had left a message already.

Renamon: I'm worried about Henry.

Rika: Worry about his perennial quarter-life crisis later. Can you track the location of whoever hacked these nudes?

Renamon: Of course.

The iPhone glowed and then unlocked itself. Rika absently flicked through the pictures, driven by morbid curiosity. She crinkled her nose. These were incredibly vanilla. She had sent more risqué photos to Ryo when they first started dating, for heaven's sake.

Speaking of Ryo, she still had yet to receive the grocery list from him, so she e-mailed him a reminder. He was probably on his lunch break by now. A response should arrive soon.

While waiting for both Ryo and Renamon to get back to her, Rika spent time testing their password security, a habit impressed upon her by some of Henry's deep-seated paranoia. It was hard to blame him, though, given just how much data online was controlled by various corporations. One of the first things Henry had done was install a private browser on their laptops and require the use of encrypted search engines only.

Ryo did eventually reply with a love you too, pumpkin :) and an attached list that made Kanpō notices look like footnotes. He had a strange obsession with making lists as obscenely long as possible. He had even double spaced it, the absolute madman. Rika suddenly wondered if it was a guy thing. There had to be a penis metaphor in there somewhere.

Staring at the monthly itinerary Henry kept pinned to the opposite wall, Rika then spent a half hour scouring the web for proof that excessive hair gel usage was linked to permanent brain damage. In the end, she determined her research was inconclusive. But the indisputable fact remained that guys were dumb.

Rika paused, loosening the cuffs of her suit and unbuttoning her blazer. It was growing warm in the small, cramped office. Walking over to Takato's prone form, she wiped away the drool beading under his fuzzy lower lip. Rika patted him fondly on the back, plucked a piece of bread from his pack, and returned to her laptop. Several stacks of paperwork lay in stacks, untouched—imbued with that peculiar never-ending property universal to all busy work—but starting that felt immensely unappealing. Instead, Rika played solitaire for a good hour. She even beat her high score.

His client's husband really had not wanted anyone to see these videos. The encryptions were surprisingly tricky. Ultimately, however, it proved more tedious than challenging. Henry leaned back in his seat, whistling sweet victory as the video played for him. Bodies and leather gyrated across the holographic screen. Oh, huh, so that was why.

"Kinky," Terriermon said, hanging on his shoulder. Henry swatted him off.

"You're too young for this. Close your virgin eyes." He attached the video as a file and sent his client an e-mail expressing condolences alongside an invoice.

Henry never quite knew how to politely handle uncovering an affair. Which was unfortunate, considering affairs made up the bulk of their work. Often he—as well as Takato and Rika—took their client out to dinner after resolving a case, but with affairs it felt a lot messier. More tone deaf. Maybe it would get easier with practice, since they had only been doing this for a year. It was somewhat alarming, how the life of a private investigator had already dulled him to fetish and infidelity. Sex had become little more than motions of flesh upon a silver screen, devoid of intimacy.

"We need to talk," Renamon said, jarring Henry out of his thoughts and cutting off Terriermon's quip.

"I think that qualifies as rude." Terriermon puffed out his cheeks.

"A little, sure. What's wrong?" Henry swiveled to face Renamon.

"I saw something." She vanished, reappearing behind Henry. He hated when she did that trick.

Renamon leaned over his shoulder, spreading her paw across the holoscreen. The image rippled, shifted, as the Digital World swam into view. It was nighttime, and Henry's eyes needed a moment to adjust.

There were figures swaying around a data stream beaming information up to EDEN. Grotesque creatures shaped vaguely like squids—no, not squids, but some form of mollusk, surely. Black and white patterns spiraled out into a shell shape as the creatures' tentacles writhed. Their movements were unnatural: too sinuous, too smooth. The very air around them trembled and glitched as they slithered through the moments between the spaces.

"What are those?" Henry asked, a tremor entering his voice. Terriermon hopped onto his head, ears draping comfortingly over his shoulders. Henry had missed such gestures in the years they spent separated. It helped soothe his anxiety, helped calm his hammering heart.

"No one is certain. They only recently began appearing and have little interest in digimon."

"So, what's the problem?"

"They hunt digignomes. They also seem linked to EDEN."

Henry took a deep breath. He had been young and desperate and in dire need of funds. Would one deal with a devil haunt him for the rest of his life? No, no. No. He was overreacting. Henry bit his knuckles, hard.

Stand still you ever moving spheres of heaven, that time may cease and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make perpetual day.

"It's probably nothing. But can you monitor them for me?"

Both Terriermon and Renamon nodded. Renamon lifted her head.

"Rika needs me. But remember, the D-Reaper began as a simple cleaning program, Henry. This has the potential to evolve far beyond your control."

It already had. Henry suppressed a bitter laugh. Renamon disappeared from view.

"Henry…"

"Good time for a moumentai, don't you think?" Henry pulled Terriermon off his head, settling the rabbit digimon on his lap.

He only wanted to see his digimon again. All his young life, Henry had thrown himself into the promise he made Takato and Rika when they were children. Everything else had been set aside. And he succeeded. So why was that deserving of divine punishment? How unfair.

What rot, indeed. Maybe he would have been better off as a bullfighter.

"Oh, how the turns have tabled." Terriermon's smile failed to reach his eyes. Sometimes when Henry spoke with Terriermon, he felt like he was talking to a stranger.

Takato took the others out drinking after work.

Rika had not arrived yet, muttering about shopping, slipping off to the Nakano underground market. Takato sipped his saké, listening with wide-eyed concern as Henry filled him in on what he had seen.

"Well, at least Guilmon and the other digimon are safe," Takato said. "Do we know how they react around humans?"

"Not eager to find out, I have to admit." Dark bags lined Henry's eyes.

Golden globes of light dangled over their heads. Salesmen moved about the bar, chatting and socializing together. It was small and cramped, easy to brush skin with strangers. The murmur created a low din that thudded rhythmically behind the base of Takato's skull.

"Hey. it might not have anything to do with you, you know…"

"Maybe." Henry looked unconvinced.

"You two clearly aren't drunk enough." Rika slid in beside Takato. She raised two fingers, signaling the server for food.

"Did you and Guilmon switch stomachs?" Takato asked, grinning. Rika elbowed him in the side. "Ow."

"Sorry," she said, sounding decidedly unapologetic, "anyway, Renamon contacted me on the way here."

Takato and Henry perked. Rika had mentioned her case in passing when they returned to their physical bodies. It sounded awful to Takato. He hoped that poor Fumiko Hada girl would be okay. No one deserved to have their privacy violated, ever.

"Yeah. It's kinda weird. Apparently, whoever hacked my client did it from a 4G hotspot. And that hotspot's location? Jackpot Entertainment."

She looked at them expectantly. Takato and Henry stared blankly back. Rika rolled her eyes.

"The talent agency that secured Fumiko Hada a role on her current idol group."

"Ohhhh," they said in unison.

The server came by, handing Rika wine and ramen. She nodded her thanks, bright eyes fixed on her coworkers.

"Right. So, I might swing by there tomorrow and poke around."

"Y'know"—Takato stole some of Rika's ramen, slurping up the noodles—"maybe you should ask your mom if she knows anything."

"My mom's a model, it's totally different. Gogglehead." Rika jerked her bowl away from Takato and spilled broth over the counter in the process. Several salesmen stared at them.

Takato wiped at his mouth, frowning indignantly. He had not worn goggles in years, but the insult always seemed to be Rika's default. According to her, it was a state of being, which he found deeply unfair. Questionable fashion choices made when he was ten should not define him for the rest of his life.

"Wait, Takato's got a point." Henry began cleaning up the spill with a napkin, unperturbed. "She might have some connections you could use, even tangentially."

Rika made a face.

"Ha!" Takato said, victorious.

"Whatever. Broken clocks are right twice a day."

"Hey!"

But both Takato and Rika laughed. This was one of his favorite parts of his new job. Working at the bakery had been nice, but helping people alongside Rika and Henry and their digimon just felt right. It was the natural evolution of everything they accomplished together as kids.

"If you asked me what I'd be doing when I was little, I would never have guessed this." Henry must have been running along a parallel train of thought. "I always wanted to grow up to be like my dad."

"Same," Takato said.

Rika sipped her wine.

"I still can't believe I was studying law just a few years back," she said at last. "Ugh, what was wrong with me?"

"Hey, a law school dropout could be useful down the line, you never know. You can go all, objection! on people," Takato said loyally, pointing a finger at the ceiling.

Rika scoffed. Then she turned contemplative. "We'll have been doing this for a year, pretty soon. It never would've happened without you, Takato."

"Eh?"

"You're the one who came up with the idea. Brought us together."

"Same as when we were kids. You're the glue of the group." Henry grinned.

"Oh. Aw, well, shucks…" Cheeks heating up, Takato buried his face in his drink. He was not smart like Henry or ambitious like Rika, so being appreciated felt nice. "It was nothing, really."

If only Guilmon and the others could be there with them. They could not handle their jobs without the help of the digimon. Not as efficiently, anyway. Maybe someday. Henry had mentioned the possibility of creating bodies for the digimon to project their consciousness into. Reverse engineer the access points, essentially. Someday.

"Three cheers to goggleheads. They might be dense as hell, but we all need at least one of 'em in our lives." Rika was grinning too, now.

They drank together.

After the D-Reaper event, everyone had drifted apart. Takato thought that might be the end of a beautiful yet terrible dream. But now, they were forging a new beginning.

He took in the scene. The shimmering lights, the warm mirth of his fellow Tamers and lifelong friends, the gentle crush of humanity surrounding them. It wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, better than any daydream he had ever experienced. Takato hoped moments like these would last forever. And someday, they could share it with everyone. Jeri and Ryo and Kazu and Kenta and even Suzie and the twins.

Someday.