As a child, Rika had been lonely and resentful and misunderstood.
The other children admired her, envied her, feared her, but they generally kept away. The few who dared to try to befriend were consequently bitten, then frequently left bitter and unwilling to try again, afterward.
Takato and Henry were the primary agents in changing that. The boys and their Digimon refused to give up, even after backing down to grant breathing space. It wasn't merely circumstances that brought the team together, but a desire to connect.
Suddenly, Rika had found herself to be not only popular, but also well-liked. She was invited to birthdays and other social events. Her own parties were attended with enthusiasm. She found it safe enough to smile and to laugh and to talk and to play. There were shoulders to lean on, even if she dared not to cry. She remained independent and antisocial at her core, which suited her fine, as she had Renamon. And the Digimon was the perfect partner.
Then Renamon was gone.
During the absence of all the Digimon of the world, Rika had experienced a depth to her depression which, at times, almost convinced her that she would lose her mind. As if a part of herself had been wrenched away, alive somewhere else, leaving her incomplete.
It was unnatural, this separation. More unnatural than the bond itself.
When she closed her eyes and called her partner's name, it didn't seem to be an illusion that Renamon distantly answered. There was the sensation of shared heartache that cared not for impossibilities.
Then the Digimon came back.
Renamon came back.
Humanity had to choose. Some people still disagree with that choice.
Rika is whole, again, but defective, damaged. She watches Digimon she has never met before engaging in play and conversation with their Tamers and wild counterparts, inevitably discovering Guilmon, Terriermon and Renamon in the process of enjoying the afternoon.
Some children hurry over with excitement, others nervously hang back. Hands are held out to friendly muzzles and claws, living proof that minds and hearts can be changed.
"Hi!" Guilmon cheerfully calls to each child and Digimon he passes. "Wanna play? I know lots of games!" He is happy most of all that the world allows him to move freely within it, to have a face and a voice, to make friends. He doesn't have to be kept a secret, anymore.
Terriermon stands on a rock so as to be seen as well as heard, telling a story that is spontaneously developing as he goes, enrapturing his audience.
Standing some distance away, Renamon keeps very still and calm, permitting tiny hands to stroke her soft fur.
Jeri would normally have something sweet to say, but she currently sleeps on Takato's chest, his strong fingers clasping her belly, their wedding rings gleaming.
A child asks to be carried.
Renamon politely declines, but compensates with a hug. She ends up giving multiple hugs to multiple children, until she gazes up at her Tamer, overwhelmed.
A smile.
A helpless look.
"Don't mind me, guys." Rika eases herself off of the blanket, standing and flexing her arms. "I'm gonna go rescue her."
"Sure thing," says Henry, before returning to his soft-spoken chat with Takato.
Renamon watches Rika's casual, strolling advance, tail thrashing.
"Hey, kids. Having fun?"
Some of the children recognise the ambling redhead.
"Whoa, I saw you on TV!"
She draws to a stop, heroically posing.
"Me too! In a magazine!"
"And me! I saw you on a website my daddy likes!"
Rika deflates. "Oh."
"This is your Digimon, isn't she?" asks a girl in a pink dress, swaying on her bare feet, smiling.
"Actually, Renamon and I are partners. Best friends, but better."
"Oooh…"
"Can I have a partner, too?" a boy projects with unnecessary loudness, tugging on Rika's belt, close to her Digivice.
"If you meet the right Digimon, sure."
"The right Digimon?"
"Every Tamer has one special Digimon friend. When they meet, it's like two halves coming together."
This is too complex for the children to fully understand, but it does make them gasp fittingly.
"How will I know if I meet the right Digimon?" asks a boy with glasses, one of the older children in the group.
"It's different for every Tamer. You'll just know." As if to demonstrate, Rika reaches for her partner. "Maybe not at first, but when it happens, it's the greatest feeling, ever."
Renamon enjoys a scratch on her neck.
"Cool…"
"You fight nasty Digimon!"
"Renamon and I used to. Not so much, anymore."
"I wanna fight!"
"Why would you want something like that?"
"It's awesome! I want my Digimon to be big and he's gotta have lots of teeth! Like this!" The rambunctious boy illustrates, reminding Rika of a shark.
"You know," she says mildly, leaning on Renemon's arm, "being a Tamer is about way more than just fighting."
The Digimon likes the tone of voice her partner uses. It's affectionate, but it isn't patronising.
"A Tamer and their Digimon friend play games, go on adventures, and spend quiet time together, too."
"Tell us about your adventures!"
"Story time!"
"Yeah!"
"If a story is what you're looking for, why don't you go over there and hang out with Terriermon? He's much better at talking than we are."
"Aw!"
Rika and Renamon move together, caressing heads and squeezing shoulders as they wade through the small group, stepping out into the open.
"Sorry, kids, but we've gotta go do some partner stuff."
The children sound their displeasure, then their excitement.
"Whoa! You gonna go fight bad Digimon?"
"Take us with!"
"Yeah! We wanna see, too!"
"Maybe we can help?"
"Thanks, guys, but no fighting, today. Renamon and I are having fun. Like you guys."
Confusion, disappointment and intrigue reflect without guise in youthful eyes.
"We Digimon are not that different from you humans," says Renamon in a gentle, patient tone. "We enjoy games as much as you do."
"So, why don't you go and hang out with some of the other Digimon? My friends Terriermon and Guilmon are lots of fun. Way more fun than Renamon and I."
"Excuse me," the fox-like Digimon whispers to her Tamer, "I am plenty of fun."
"You have a sweet stuck in your fur," her partner whispers back, fingers interweaving with a paw.
"Please take it out once they're gone."
"No problem. Run along, kids. Renamon and I have gotta go now, okay?"
The crowd disperses, some of the children more reluctant than others.
"I am not very good at this," mutters the Tamer, affectionately elbowed by her partner.
"You did very well." The Digimon smiles, a gesture rarely seen. "I always enjoy seeing you interact with the little ones."
"Because I'm such a grumpy oaf."
"Not at all. As for that sweet."
Rika pulls something sticky out of Renamon's fur before tossing the sweet into the closest trashcan with good aim. "Score."
Digimon and Tamer then turn to walk together in silence, for a while.
"I wish Impmon were here."
"Yeah, me too."
"And little Calumon."
"And everyone else."
"Time brings people closer together. Time also pulls people further apart."
"Time can be a bitch. But me, I'm the worst."
"As am I. Let's not dwell on such things."
"Right. Far too nice a day to get too introspective."
The partners draw to a stop.
"Ready?"
"On the count of three."
"One."
"Two."
"Three," whispers Rika, red hair stirred by the breeze of her partner's thrusting body.
Renamon sprints ahead with a laugh, carrying herself on long, muscular legs, nimbly dodging amazed onlookers and obstacles in her path, keeping away from the general traffic of bodies.
Rika takes a deep breath, bracing herself on her scuffed running shoes, before vaulting forward.
The Digimon takes the rugged way, relying only on the paws that hit the ground almost noiselessly beneath her, barely flattening leaves and blades of grass.
Without Rumiko fussing over her daughter's weight and waistline, the Tamer has lost some of her speed, strength and endurance to neglect. But even at the teenage prime of the past, Rika has never had any chance of outrunning her partner. Catching Renamon like this will always be impossible, despite the reassurance otherwise.
But they run, anyway.
The Digimon's fur is stirred by the wind, her muscular curves drinking the intervals between dappled sunlight and shadows as she passes beneath a leafy canopy. She's like a dream, conjured by a brain partially deprived of oxygen, drinking air liberally between burning, breathless heartbeats.
The Tamer finally comes skidding to a halt, then doubling over whilst catching herself on a tree, panting.
The dream materialises into reality as Renamon's paws capture Rika's shoulders.