chapter iii: burn like cinders

This was a mistake. He knew it was but his feet moved all the same. For the nth time, Daisuke checked the time—3:04 p.m. Not early, not on time, but not too late either. That was fine, right? It was a Saturday, the day of the meetup that Ken had wrangled him into going. For the last few days, he'd been dreading it and in a blink, it was already here.

The thought of seeing them all—all in one place made his chest tighten as if he was choking. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here. But… he came anyway. If he played his cards right, then maybe… maybe they would stop worrying (they shouldn't have in the first place.)

Daisuke reached the edge of the clearing, where the benches were, the sunlight peeking through the hooded rooftops. Without realizing it, he stood just outside the edge of their vision, taking in the sight in front of him. Ken, laughing as he fed Wormmon some berries. Tailmon, perched on a tree, shaking her head with Patamon flying circles around her. Takeru and Hikari, leaning against each other, bodies pressed together, even in public. Iori, sighing gently as Upamon demanded more prune juice. Miyako, half way to stepping onto the table to catch the flying Poromon's stolen cookies.

There was not a hint of a small, blue dragon among them.

The picture was… perfect.

(Perfect, without him.)

Daisuke never felt more out of place in his life. It was as if the world was split in two; the shining, blinding light of the sight in front of him in contrast to the grayscale that was his life—that was him. He didn't belong here, he never did, this wasn't right, he should just leave—

He thought he tasted the salty air of seawater in the wind. Shadows licked at the edge of his vision, and for a second, Daisuke wanted nothing more than to just let go—

Ken caught sight of him before he could, waving. "Daisuke! You made it!" he called out with a smile wider than the sun. How long had it been since Daisuke saw him smile like that? Hell, how long had it been since he'd truly seen Ken, period?

He didn't know. He didn't know and the sight of Ken's grin, one that was so, so achingly familiar to his own years ago, made him want to vomit on the spot.

I can't do this. I can't—

But he would. He would, because what else could he do?

Mustering up all the false joy he could muster, Daisuke tried to match Ken's smile, teeth for teeth. "Of course I did! I told you I would, didn't I?" The words—the lies—tasted like ash in his mouth.

Everyone else turned to him, frowns of various sizes directed toward him and Daisuke felt like he was being impaled by a thousand knives. "What're those frowns for?" he huffed. "Are you guys that upset to see me?! And here you thought you guys missed me!"

The frowns melted away like butter at that; all of them seemed to believe it. (believe the lies.)

(Daisuke wished that V-mon was here.)

Takeru was the first to respond, a grin just as wide and bright as the stars themselves on his face. "Of course, we missed you, Dais! You've been gone forever!"

Daisuke faked a pout. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know! But I've just been so busy with everything!" he whined. "Agh, it's like life's trying its best to not give me a moment's rest, dammit!"

Miyako puffed out her chest, crossing her arms. "Yeah, sure! I bet it's 'cause you keep procrastinating on your homework for soccer practice instead, isn't it?!" she demanded.

"Oh come on Miyako, that's not fair!" Daisuke shot back. "Besides, I'm not on the team anymore anyway!"

He was surprised and not that she didn't remember. It wasn't like he kept it a secret but… he didn't tell her—anyone, really—either. Sure, it was told through the school's grapevine within days, but still. It… hurt. That she didn't know. Or at least, he thought it would, but really, he couldn't feel anything of anything, really. It wasn't Miyako's fault.

(It was his.

Always his.)

Miyako blinked owlishly, all wind suddenly taken out of her sails. "Oh… Right. Um… Sorr—"

"Either way," Hikari interrupted, "We're still really glad you could make it." Despite her quiet tone, everyone turned to her, nodding along and she gave Daisuke a blinding, blinding smile that made his heart ache and made him feel like he was burning alive all at once.

Please. Just stop.

"We were worried about you," she continued with a concerned sigh and Daisuke wished the earth could swallow him whole, wished that he could be anywhere but there, wished that Hikari would just stop talking, would stop lying to him—

"Sorry 'bout that, Hikari!" Somehow, he managed to find the strength to muster up another false grin. "But trust me, everything's all jazzy!"

She smiled back, looking relieved and Daisuke felt hatred and relief swell in his chest at once. He hated it—hated how she made him feel, hated how she acted, always acted, to him and for him, and hated the power she always—always—had over him.

(And more than anything, he hated how much he loved her.)

"That's good," she said simply.

Daisuke didn't notice the small frown cross over Takeru's face.

"Regardless of the reason," Iori said, stepping forward to give a small bow, "It's great to have you back, Daisuke."

Daisuke sputtered, "Oh, stop that! You don't need to bow," he protested but knew it would make little difference. That's just how Iori was. With the bow, Daisuke could see how much Iori had grown in the past few years; even with his head down, he was only so much shorter than Daisuke himself.

In his mind, Iori had grown the most out of all of them since Armagemon's demise; it may not been obvious on the surface, but it was obvious to him. The way his shoulders were relaxed yet stiff, the way his smiles were measured but genuine… Iori had the honor of being the youngest of them all, and yet he never fell behind. Oikawa's death had hit him the hardest, but Daisuke knew that the tragedy only urged Iori on further, instead of holding him back.

He respected Iori more than he could say.

(He wished he could be more like Iori, than himself. Anything but be himself.)

Cheap, fake conversation continued a little longer, every second making Daisuke feel like he was drowning in an ocean until Ken, suddenly, suggested, "Why don't we play a game of soccer?"

Daisuke felt his heart freeze over.

Miyako grumbled, "Seriously Ken? C'mon, that's not going to be fair!"

Ken looked at her wide-eyed, pleading. "Please~?"

Suddenly flustered, Miyako avoided her boyfriend's gaze, stammering a M-Maybe.

Takeru laughed at the sight. He turned to his girlfriend, who was sighing. "Well, whaddya think?"

"I'm not really in the mood…" Hikari started.

"C'mon, are you chicken?"

That got a reaction as a fire lit up in Hikari's eyes, "You wish, Takaishi! You're forgetting who my brother is."

"Well then maybe you should remind me~"

"Oh, it's so on."

"I suppose it isn't a terrible idea," Iori cut in. "It sounds fun."

Ken grinned, turning to Daisuke. "Well, you up for a game?"

No, please. I don't want to, I—"Of course!" he exclaimed with a false, cheery grin.

"Okay, but if we're doing this, you two can't be on the same teams!" Miyako said immediately. "Not happening!"

Ken laughed. "I suppose that's only fair!"

It was decidedly quickly after that. Takeru, Miyako, and Daisuke on one team with Hikari, Iori, and Ken on the other.

The game was fast-paced, like lightning. Even though Ken and Daisuke were the only ones who actually played the sport, their adventures in the Digital World had made sure they were all far from being out of shape.

A sneaky pass, Ken had the ball now—Daisuke rushed, trying to steal it back but the former genius ran circles around him and shot it straight toward the open Hikari who reminded them that Yagami Taichi was her brother when she scored from across the field. Takeru stared wide-eyed as his girlfriend completely bypassed his defense, laughing.

"That was amazing, Hikari!" he called out, sounding as if never had more fun in his life.

0-1.

Daisuke stole the ball from Iori this time, running it across the field, trying to evade Ken as best he could. He knew he should be happy, should be thrilled to be playing with them again… but he just wasn't. Because every step felt heavier than the last like his heart was dragging him down like an anchor to the ocean's depths.

He was in range now and Daisuke kicked—

—he missed. Ken had the ball and it was over from that moment, fate sealed as within thirty seconds, he scored the second goal of the game.

0-2.

Iori and Ken high-fived, laughing like tomorrow as Hikari gave them a hug. Takeru congratulated them on their skillful play while Miyako fumed good-naturedly— competitively, more happy than upset.

Daisuke had never felt more empty in his life. For a second, he thought the sky was grey, that the dirt was sand, and that the park air was seawater.

The game continued and Daisuke saw a chance to score but didn't take it again, holding the ball as he tried to keep it from Ken's reach. There! Juking Hikari, Daisuke passed it to Miayko who ran faster than in her entire life, catching it and she kicked—

—SCORE!

She made the shot. 1-2.

A spark of something ignited in Daisuke's chest, a flicker of what he thought was joy, but it was quickly extinguished by the cold reality of his situation. It wasn't him who made the goal, he hadn't even tried. It was Miyako.

The game went on, and with each pass, Daisuke felt a part of himself shrivel and die. He didn't dare to look into the eyes of his friends, didn't dare to let them see the truth that was starkly apparent in every move he made—or didn't make.

Score! Takeru this time, without his help. Daisuke felt like he swallowed a fish.

He took a deep breath, the taste of saltwater thick in the air. He had to do this—not for them, but for himself. He had to prove that he was okay, that he wasn't just a lost cause. So he took the ball and started to run, trying his best to keep pace—

But the world around him was blurring, the grey of the beach mixing with the vibrant green of the field. It was like he was running in quicksand, every step a battle against his own mind. He thought he heard Demon's voice in the distance, mocking him.

You're pathetic. You're nothing.

But he couldn't let that be true. He didn't want it to be—he had had to prove him wrong, prove them all wrong— he was fine he was fine fine fine, dammit he was FINE!

With a snarl, Daisuke kicked the ball with all his might. It soared through the air, a blur of color and hope—and for a brief moment, he felt alive.

But as it reached the goal, Ken was there, his foot slamming into the ball and sending it to the side. Daisuke froze, watching it roll away, all the air leaving his lungs. He had done it—he had tried.

And he had failed.

The game continued, but Daisuke felt detached from it all. Every pass was a silent admission of his defeat, every cheer from the others a painful reminder of what he couldn't be. He was the weak link, the one holding them back.

In the end, it was Ken who scored the winning goal. Daisuke watched, his heart numb as his best friend was showered with congratulations. He had lost—not just the game, but something far more important.

The smiles, the laughter, it was all a lie. And he was the worst liar of them all

4-6. That was the final score. Ken had scored another two and even Iori had taken a point with an assist from Hikari. Takeru had done his best to even it out with another two but he only managed so much.

Despite it, everyone smiled like no tomorrow—everyone, except him. Despite the smiles from his own team, Daisuke felt as if he was tasting ash. He hadn't scored a single point, hadn't even tried (and when he did, he failed). Every time he had the chance, he just passed it along (until he didn't, and where did that get him?).

Everyone in the game had scored at least once… except him.

The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the field. Daisuke's eyes followed the arc of the ball as it descended into the night, feeling as if he was watching a piece of himself fade away.

"Good game, everyone!" Ken said, trying to break the tension. But it only made Daisuke feel more like a fraud. He mumbled something incoherent and started to walk away, not bothering to straighten his sweaty clothes.

The weight of his own failure dragged him down with every step. The Dark Ocean called to him, whispering sweet promises of safety and grey. Of understanding. It was the only place he truly felt like he belonged anymore.

As he left, Daisuke couldn't help but take in their forms once more. Hikari, her form pressed against Takeru's, their partners in their arms. Iori sitting on the bench, drinking his prune juice with a small smile as Miyako engaged in her eccentrics, shaking Poromon too hard. From Ken's shoulder, Wormmon grimaced in fear, even as his partner laughed.

Perfect. They were… perfect, now (without him.)

(He tried to imagine their lives, with him in them. Their futures, with him in it.

He failed.)

Takeru watched with a frown at Daisuke's rapidly retreating figure. "Do you really think he's okay?" he asked Hikari.

"Huh?" Takeru turned to her at the confusion and surprise in her voice. "What do you mean?"

He frowned. Didn't she notice it? Still, he explained. "He just… felt off."

"Are you sure you're not imagining it?" Great, now Hikari was looking at him concernedly.

Takeru shook his head resolutely. "No, I'm sure. He… He acted everything like a Daisuke should but, I don't know, it just felt… wrong? Like… Like he was trying to force it or something."

Hikari took on a thoughtful look as if replaying the last half hour in your head. "Now that you mention it…"

A sudden thought struck Takeru like lightning. "You don't think… Is it because he's—?"

Hikari caught onto his train of thought immediately and shook her head quickly. "No way! We know Daisuke had a crush on me but that was forever ago. He even congratulated us on getting together, remember? It's not jealousy. Dai isn't like that."

Takeru nodded in agreement, kicking himself for even thinking that of his good friend. "You're right. But if that's the case, then why…? Do you have any idea?"

Hikari crossed her eyes in concentration, thinking hard. Takeru noticed the exact second when she went pale, freezing as if a bucket of ice-cold water had poured on her. A look of guilt and fear flashed on her face, too quick for him to catch.

"...Hikari?" She didn't seem to hear him. "Hikari!" he called again and she whipped her head toward him in surprise. "What's wrong? Do you know something?"

She blinked before shaking her hesitantly. "N-No," she lied, clearly.

Takeru frowned, feeling a twinge of pain. "Hikari…"

"It's nothing, I swear!" she defended, a familiar look of stubbornness coloring her eyes and it was then Takeru knew she would say no more. She was Taichi's sister for a reason.

But still, he couldn't but, "...are you sure?"

She nodded resolutely and Takeru tried to ignore the stab at his heart. Even after all this time, she…

He didn't completely blame her—he knew how she was; secretive, shy, always keeping things to herself at the cost of herself… Hell, he was even the same half the time so of course he got it, but it still hurt that there were things that she wouldn't trust even him with, even after everything they'd been through, everything they'd done together.

He tried to pretend it didn't bother him nearly as much as it, just like Hikari would do.

(Just like she always did.)

Ken pursed his lips as Daisuke left. Was the soccer match not a good idea? He had thought that with Daisuke off the team, he might have enjoyed the return to his favorite sport, but now, the genius wasn't so sure—

Miyako bumped his shoulder, grumbling and suddenly all train of thought was lost for Ken. "Man, I forget how mean you can be sometimes!" she complained.

Ken chuckled good-naturedly. "Oh come on, you know it was all in good fun!"

"Yeah, yeah, pretty boy, you're only saying that 'cause you won!"

Ken gave an ambiguous grin, ruffling her hair. "Maybe~"

She huffed but quickly changed her tune when Ken's lips met her cheek. Even after all this time, she turned beat red.

Iori sighed at the display, shaking his head. Upamon, noticing this, bounced on his head. "You're no better than them when you're with Noriko, y'know!"

Iori answered by shoving a straw into his mouth, keeping him quiet.

But it wasn't like Upamon was wrong. Maybe next time he would invite her… Being the fifth wheel sucked.

Daisuke didn't know where he was going but he didn't particularly care, just letting his feet shuffle him wherever they desired.

And apparently they desired right in front a bushy, browned-haired male.

Yagami Taichi frowned, looking at who had just bumped into him. "Daisuke? What's up? Wait, I thought you were supposed to be at the park with Hikari and the others?"

What was it with him and bumping into friends he didn't want to, seriously?!

"I, uhh, my mom called—she wants me home early tonight for some reason."

Taichi frowned deeper, buying the lie. "Really? That's a shame." Go, go, he had to go—he couldn't let Taichi see him like this—

"Right?!" He tried to fake a pout. "Ugh, so annoying. But yeah, I really should be going, later, Taichi-senpai!"

And without giving Taichi the chance to respond, Daisuke all but ran from the sidewalk, not stopping until he was completely out of sight. That was too close. If there was anyone outside of his… team, that he didn't want to find out, it would be his mentor and role model.

His steps slowed to a stop only after he was at least a few hundred feet away, slightly out of breath.

He couldn't stand to face Taichi, not when he was… what he was. Facing his mentor—his predecessor made him feel like the biggest fraud on the planet. He wasn't strong like Taichi, wasn't a true leader like Taichi— wasn't a true hero and Chosen like him.

Because if he was… he wouldn't be feeling like this, would he?!

No… he couldn't let Taichi see him like this, he wouldn't dare—Not when Taichi still saw him as the protege who helped bring down Belialvamdemon, who finally finished Aramagemon. Not when Taichi saw him for the hero he once was, not the shell of a person he was now. He wouldn't dream of insulting his mentor by being in his presence like this. He couldn't.

(He didn't didn't deserve to.

He didn't deserve anything.)

He wasn't like Taichi, wasn't like Yamato or any of the older generation—wasn't like Takeru, or Ken, or Iori, or any of them. They… They were fine, they were strong.

They were heroes. True Chosen Children.

He… He was just… Daisuke.

And that's all he ever would be.

(A liar.

A fake.)

As he walked home, the world grew quieter, the grey deepening into a thick fog that clung to him like a shroud. The sound of screams and fear pierced the silence and his heart skipped a beat. He knew that sound, knew what it meant— danger. His instincts, honed from years of battling in the Digital World, took over. He followed the wail, the sound growing louder with each step until—

A flaming building, a beacon of fiery despair in the midst of the slumbering city. People milled around, panic etched into their faces as they watched the inferno.

But Daisuke didn't see any of that. His eyes were drawn to the figure in the upstairs window, trapped by the relentless flames. Without a thought, he broke into a run, his legs moving before his mind had even registered what was happening.

He ignored the shouts of the bystanders, ignored the reporters and cameramen, broke past the entrance, and charged straight into the building. Immediately, the smell of smoke assaulted his lungs, making him feel as if he was choking. The heat was like a vice, wrapping around him like a fiery embrace. He coughed, vision swaying before he took off his jacket, wrapping it around his mouth in a haphazard mask. His hands accidentally brush the goggles around his neck and after a moment's hesitation, Daisuke used them to cover his eyes.

His eyes watered, his lungs burned, but he pushed on, the roar of the fire fueling his determination. His eyes darted around, looking for the stairs and he found them, feet moving like thunder—the soles of his shoes burned and he was drowning in sweat but he didn't care, dodging the fiery debris as he climbed up like he was scaling a mountain.

The woman's cries grew clearer as he stumbled through the smoke-filled hallway, his eyes finally landing on her, cowering beneath a pile of burning debris. With a surge of strength that surprised even him, Daisuke shoved the burning rubble aside, his skin searing with pain. She was unconscious, and he didn't have time to consider his own well-being. He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms as he stumbled back the way he came.

The smoke grew thicker, the flames closer. His goggles— Taichi's goggles—kept fogging up from the smoke but he kept going anyway. His eyes searched for an exit, and that's when he heard it—the faint wail of a child. Without a second thought, he changed course, following the sound up another flight of stairs. The heat was unbearable now, the smoke choking him, but he couldn't leave anyone behind. He couldn't—

In a room half-collapsed from the fire's wrath, he found the child, a little boy no older than eight, trembling in the corner. "It's okay," Daisuke croaked, his voice hoarse from the smoke. The boy looked up with tears in his eyes, ash on his cheek. "I'm here to help, it's going to be okay."

The boy looked up at him, wide-eyed with terror, and Daisuke managed a reassuring smile despite the pain. "Come with me, we have to get out of here."

The boy stood up, shaking as he tried to follow. "M-Mister, m-my sister, she's—she's—!"

CRASH!

A pile of burning debris fell on the entrance, blocking their exit. Daisuke felt his heart freeze with fear. Their way of escape was completely cut off, leaving them at the mercy of the roaring, merciless flames.

Fifteen minutes earlier…

Taichi groaned as he aimlessly changed the TV channel again and again. There was nothing interesting. The creaking of the door caught his ears and he pulled himself up to see his little sister walk in, Tailmon perched on her shoulder.

"Huh, you're later than I expected," he commented.

Hikari raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind her. Tailmon yawned. "What do you mean? I'm right on time. 6, just like I said."

Looking at the clock, Taichi realized she was right. "Huh… Weird. Sorry, lost track of time I, guess. Was just expecting you earlier, considering how early Daisuke left."

"You saw him?" Hikari asked, taking off her shoes as Tailmon wandered into Hikari's room, doubtlessly for a nap.

Taichi nodded lazily, yawning from boredom. "Yeah, bumped into him a while ago. Shame his mom wanted him back so early. Have you seen his skin lately? Kid needs some more sunlight."

Hikari frowned, latching onto only one part of his rambling. "His mom?"

"Yeah?" Taichi said with a blink, confused at her confusion. "He said that his mom called him home early for some reason."

"That's not…" Hikari's brow scrunched in confusion. "He didn't mention his mom at all, he just… left."

"...Huh, weird." Taichi shrugged. "Must've been in a hurry, then." But, that felt wrong, even to Taichi—when Daisuke had bumped into him, he didn't seem to be in a hurry.

The sound of the news from the TV caught Taichi's ears. "...a roaring fire that just started suddenly, consuming the Kaigan Minato apartment complex! The firefighters are being delayed by unnatural traffic tonight, will everyone be okay—?"

Hikari gasped from behind him, covering her mouth at the image on the screen: the apartment complex, covered in a dress of orange, burning fire. "How horrible…" she shuddered, paling.

Taichi nodded grimly, hoping the people would be okay.

"...evacuation procedures were taken but there are still occupants unaccounted for, we can only hope that they ar—wait, hey!" the reporter exclaimed as a boy with spikey, maroon hair rushed past her and the cameraman.

Both Taichi and Hikari's eyes widened in recognition, "DAISUKE?!" they yelled but the boy couldn't hear them through the TV screen. "What are you—?!"

Daisuke completely ignored the cries of the reporter and bystanders, like a man on a mission as he plunged straight into the fiery prison without regard.

Hikari was as pale as a sheet, shaking. "D-Daisuke, h-he just—"

"That fucking IDIOT!" Taichi yelled, causing Hikari to flinch. Her brother had almost never yelled like that. His fists were clenched, in anger or anxiety, Hikari couldn't tell. "Does he have a death wish?! What does he think he's going to do?!"

His hands found his Digivice, always attached to his belt. "Agumon!" he yelled, "Come on, we have to—!"

"Onii-chan, wait!" Hikari grabbed his wrist. "You can't—what are you going to do? It's too far away and Greymon will only add to the flames, not take it away!"

Taichi visibly shook from frustration. "But—!"

"We…" she choked. "We can't do anything. Neither Tailmon nor Agumon can do anything about the flames…"

Taichi stifled a scream, his hand meeting the wall in frustration, forming a crack. The pain of his knuckles didn't help in the slightest. Hikari, meanwhile, clasped her hands as if in prayer for her friend's safety.

Taichi girt his teeth, fist still shaking. If that kid died today… Taichi was going to strangle him to death with his own hands.

You better be okay, Daisuke, he swore.

Daisuke was not okay.

They couldn't escape, he couldn't move that— If only Fladramon was here!

But there was no Fladramon because there was no V-mon. There was only him and the two lives he held in his hands. With a snarl, Daisuke let the woman down onto the scorching floor, eyes darting around. There! A steel bat.

He grabbed it and immediately dropped it from the sheer heat, his palms stinging. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to grab it again, ignoring the pain as he rushed for the blocked entrance. He swung it with all his might, the metal giving way with a screech that seemed to echo through the very fabric of his soul. It wasn't enough—he swung again and again. Again! There! The way cleared, the metal head of the bat now nothing more than a deformed stick. "Come on!" he called to the boy, moving to grab the woman.

"B-But my sister—!"

Daisuke froze. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"O-Over there, in the o-other room!" the boy cried, pointing down the hall to the other bedroom.

Without hesitation, he kicked down the burning door, his foot aching in protest but he didn't listen to the cries of his body, trying to look for the cries of a child. Rushing in, he found her—a black-haired girl who could be no older than five, unconscious as she leaned against the bed.

She was so, so painfully still—she wasn't breathing. For a second, Daisuke thought she was—that he was too—

Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall.

And then he saw it, her tiny chest breathing every so weakly, but that was enough—

He scooped the girl into his arms, thanking whatever deities above that let him have this small mercy. He rushed out of the room, seconds before it collapsed behind him.

"Mai!" the boy called, seeing his sister and Daisuke handed her off, scooping the woman in his arms.

"She's going to be okay," he promised, willing himself to believe it. "Come on, let's go!" The boy didn't hesitate, following him.

They stumbled down the stairs, the flames licking at their heels. The woman in his arms grew heavier with every step, but he didn't dare stop. They reached the bottom and then there was another set of footsteps. Daisuke looked up to see another, frantic man searching.

"Ayanami! Ayanami, where are you?!" he called before his eyes fell on Daisuke and the children. The man's eyes immediately widened at the woman in Daisuke's arms, shining in recognition. "Ayanami! Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

Without hesitating, Daisuke handed Ayanami off to the man. "Take her," he rasped, before gesturing to the boy and his sister, "Take them, and get out of here."

The man's eyes widened in shock and gratitude, nodding, as if he were looking at an angel instead of a person.

The boy protested, looking wide-eyed, "B-But what about you, mister?!"

Daisuke crouched down, looking the boy in the eyes. The glare of orange and fire reflected against his goggles but he gave him a wink through anyway, trying to smile. "Don't worry," he said quietly, like a secret. " I'm a Chosen Child."

The boy didn't know what that meant, but his eyes lit up in wonder at the same, as if hearing the greatest secret in the world.

"Go," he told the boy, "Your sister needs you, okay?"

Nodding rapidly, the boy did and followed the man as the four of them rushed for the exit. Daisuke watched them go, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing in the thick smoke. He turned his back, running up the stairs again, searching each hallway for any screams or cries.

Up and up he went, running through the collapsing rooms with a fervor he didn't think was possible. The muscles in his legs burned with pain, literally—he could feel his socks touching the floor through his melted soles, and his dried throat constricted from the smoke. His lungs ached, and he couldn't stop coughing, burning tears escaping his eyes but he kept going.

His eyes searched the room, the building, for any sign of life, any hint of movement that would indicate someone else needed his help. But the room was eerily still, the flames dancing in a macabre ballet, consuming everything in their path. He coughed, his lungs burning, and knew he had to get out.

He turned and made for the stairs, his eyes watering and his vision blurred. The smoke was thick, a living entity that clung to him, trying to drag him back into the fiery maw of the building. Each step was a battle, a fight against the fire's relentless hunger. The heat was unbearable, the smoke a suffocating embrace that threatened to swallow him whole.

And then, without warning, the stairs gave way beneath his feet.

The world spun as he fell, his body a ragdoll in the clutches of fate. He had a brief glimpse of the ground rushing up to meet him before the world went black.

When he came to, he was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairwell, surrounded by debris and flame. The pain was intense, a roaring beast that threatened to consume him. But he knew he couldn't give in. He had to move, had to get out before it was too late.

With a groan, Daisuke pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. The flames licked at his skin, the heat intense and all-consuming. He looked around wildly, searching for a way out, any way out. But the stairs were gone, the exit blocked by a wall of fire.

He was trapped.

The grey fog of his despair closed in around him, threatening to smother him. H-He was—he was trapped, there… there was no way out, no V-mon, no nothing— For a moment, Daisuke just thought of staying there, letting the inevitable happen. His jacket was already starting to burn, his clothes catching embers, his skin screaming in agony that he could hardly even feel.

Would it be so bad to just… let it happen? He'd done enough, hadn't he? He'd saved some people—not many, not enough, never enough but… something, right? Couldn't he just… give up?

An image struck him, the charred remains of his corpse, in a black casket with his friends and family tearstruck. It hit him like the fury of thunder, causing him to jolt. No, no he couldn't—he wouldn't do that to them. Not to any of them, not to Iori, who already lost his father, and certainly, certainly not Ken who had already lost Osamu—

He took a deep breath, coughing violently as the smoke filled his lungs. And then, with a roar that echoed through the burning building, Daisuke began to crawl.

The flames danced around him, taunting him with their deadly embrace. His clothes were singeing, his skin searing with every movement. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. He had to keep moving, had to find a way out. There it was—an opening. An escape—he crawled through, the searing debris cutting holes into his skin. He crawled and crawled until he was free, standing up, stumbling as he. His eyes darted around.

Through the smoke, he caught sight of a window, a square of relative darkness in the sea of fire. He stumbled toward it, the heat beating at his back like a thousand hammers. His vision swam, and his mind grew fuzzy. Was this it? Was this the end for him? Crushed under the burnt remains of a broken building? Dead before he could even graduate, before he could even see V-mon again?!

But no, the spark within him grew, a fierce determination that would not be snuffed out so easily. He had to escape, had to live. Not for himself, but for the others—for Ken, for V-mon—

CRASH.

The roof above him collapsed, cutting off his escape and Daisuke felt the hope drain from him. The fire reflected in the lens of his goggles as if hell itself was taunting him, for daring to hope he would get out of this. He looked around but there was nothing—no other windows, no stairs, no metal baseball bats… Nothing.

Panic set within him, juxtaposed with a sense of tranquility. He thought of Mai and her brother. I hope they got out safely…

The ceiling was starting to shake above him, the debris starting to fall and Daisuke realized burning was not how he was going to pass, but by being crushed.

He choked, not from the smoke but from his own tears— I don't— I don't want to die, he thought, frantic, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. I—I still have so much to do, don't I?! I—I want to live!

The ceiling started to break.

The taste of seawater reached his lips and Daisuke's eyes widened as just briefly, oh so briefly, all the red, glorious flames turned grey in his vision.

A crack. Right above his head. The ceiling broke, falling right on top of him—

—And Daisuke reached for the seawater, for the ocean, for the second home he never had.

Daisuke took a half-step backward in reality, falling through the boundaries of the worlds as easily as he breathed.

The ceiling fell and crushed nothing.

Daisuke woke with a gasp, breathing easier than he had in his entire life, the sweet, sweet aroma of saltwater entering his nose. He pushed himself up, groaning as the grey sand stuck to his body like a second skin.

Burns… It burns… he thought, gasping. His eyes were drawn to the black water on their own accord and without even realizing it, he all but ran to the cold, watery embrace. Relief like nothing he'd ever experienced in his life flooded through him, the cold, cold water soothing against his burnt skin.

It's okay, the empty ocean seemed to whisper to his empty heart, we're here for you. For a second, Daisuke almost believed it, relaxing completely as he started to sink… and sink… and sink… and…

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

The screeching of his D-3 caught his ears, jolting Daisuke awake. His eyes widened as he realized he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, his lungs starting to fill with the black water. With frantic desperation, Daisuke clawed his way up through the water, swimming as he stumbled onto the beach, coughing. Black water left his mouth as his vision staggered.

I-If my Digivice didn't… he shuddered. But then his eyes frowned, why had his Digivice reacted? It hadn't made a single peep in the last two years since V-mon left… He fished out the white and blue device from his pocket, glancing—there was an arrow… pointing forward?

Daisuke looked up and saw something he missed upon his initial entry to the Dark World—was that a… Digitama? He scrunched his eyes, trying to see clearer… and then felt his heart skip a beat. Wait, that egg, it's—!

He knew that Digitama, better than he did any other in the worlds! Half stumbling, half running, Daisuke rushed for the Digitama, not stopping until he cradled it in his arms. He flinched when he touched it, it was so cold—like it was covered in frost, but he didn't care, holding it close to his heart.

He looked closer, on the black and purple patterns and his heart skipped another beat. He was right, it was, it was—!

A crack. The Digitama suddenly grew warm from his touch, the frost melting away to nothing as it glowed like the breath of summer had been breathed into the egg. Another crack, it was hatching—!

And hatch it did, until a small, white blob nestled itself in his arms. A Yukimibotamon. Daisuke felt his heart melt at the sight. He had so many things to say, so many things to voice but he didn't where to start—

A cascade of data swirled around the Yukimibotamon as it glowed. Daisuke's eyes widened. She's evolving? Already?! Sure enough, as the light faded, a purple-striped, yellow head with a cat's ears and tail sat in his arms—Nyaromon.

Another cascade of data swirled around her and Daisuke watched in amazement as she evolved again—this time, a white puppy with a holy ring was in his arms. Plotmon.

"You're amazing," he breathed. He'd never seen a Digimon evolve so quickly. But then that amazement quickly turned to horror as the Plotmon let out a pained gasp, withering. She could hardly stand, her legs weak.

"What's wrong?" he asked but she couldn't respond, only looking at him through pain-filled eyes.

Lights, fireflies surrounded her—no, they weren't fireflies, they were data chips! The chips circled around her before digging into her skin, causing her to cry out as she was forced to evolve again. Daisuke went pale at the sight, remembering what happened in the summer over two years ago—" NONONONO—Not again!"

But he couldn't stop it then, so how could he stop it now?! He could only watch in mute horror Plotmon was forced to evolve into a black and purple feline—BlackTailmon. She let out a tortured gasp, her form fuzzy as if glitching, fighting the data chips but they wouldn't stop.

She was going to die, he knew, she was going to die just like she did the first time and there was nothing he could do! Daisuke felt like his heart was being ripped in two, utterly powerless to stop anything. He couldn't—he couldn't watch her die a second time, he just couldn't—could she even be brought back a third time?! Could a Digimon who died in the Dark World even revive? Turn back to a Digitama? He didn't know, didn't know anything—

Tears fell down his eyes, a lump in his throat. He was powerless. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted to roar at the unfairness of it all, she didn't deserve this, she never did!

A weak, frail paw caressed his cheek and he looked down, wide-eyed. She looked so weak and in so, so much pain, but her eyes looked at him sadly as if to say It's okay… you're… here. You… found… me…

Suddenly, she let out a pained gasp when a data chip embedded itself straight into chest, making her cry out in pain. Daisuke felt his heart crack.

"Please…!" He called out, but to who, he didn't know. "Anyone, someone, if there is anyone or anything up there, please, just let me save her! PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

…Nothing.

No one answered.

Of course they didn't.

Daisuke's voice broke. "Please…!" he begged.

A screech. A screech from his Digivice, as if it responded to his empty heart, and Daisuke pulled it out. It started to float above him, data pouring out. A ring of data cascaded around himself, the Digivice, and then around her, pausing as if waiting for confirmation.

Daisuke didn't know what was going on but he didn't care as long it meant—as long as it meant she'd be okay—

"Do it," he told his D-3, told the line of data. And in a bright flash of light, the streams of data from Daisuke and her flew around, merging into one before it struck his D-3 in a brilliant flash of light, contrasting greatly in the black, black world they resided in. The data chips were burned away to nothing as the Digivice stopped floating, dropping into his hands.

It was different. His D-3 had… transformed—no, changed. It looked almost identical to before… except the left, rubber handgrip was no longer blue but purple. It looked wrong, no longer symmetrical—the right still remained blue but they were both supposed to be the same color, not different—they were both supposed to be blue—!

But they weren't. They weren't and with a cold, cold realization, Daisuke understood what just happened. He was her par—

A burst of data caught his vision and Daisuke turned to see a ring of light coat itself around BlackTailmon. She's still evolving—?! But no, as the light died down, it wasn't a Perfect-level Digimon that lay before him… but a human girl.

Exhausted and pained, she looked fifteen, maybe fourteen, with shoulder-length dark, dark brown hair that almost looked black. Her pained, yet utterly joyous purple eyes looked up at him as she struggled to smile, reaching out for him.

Daisuke felt himself shake. There was no doubt about it, it was—"Nat-chan…" he gasped with a watery smile. He rushed toward her, pulling her into a tight, bone-crushing hug. "You're okay, oh my god you're okay, thank god you're okay—"

She hugged him back, smiling through her own tears, the two of them finally, finally reunited.

"Daisuke…"

A/N: I finished this chapter instead of doing my homework. (Help.)

I'm so nice to Daisuke, aren't I? :) (it's only going to get worse.)

Fun fact, Daisuke isn't actually the best at soccer as much as fanfiction portrays him to be. In canon 02, he's not even a full-time player on his team but instead a substitute (as evident by the number he wears on his jersey—different numbers mean different things), whereas, in contrast, Taichi was the ace striker at the same age.

Just another difference between the two (and people say they're clones of each other) but yeah, because of that, it's not too far-fetched to imagine that Daisuke's skills have more than slipped to get kicked off the team, especially considering his current state.

As for Nat-chan, more details in the next chapter but for those of you who don't recognize her, she is actually a canon character—from the CD 02 Drama: Natsu e no Tobira (The Door to Summer). I really encourage you guys to give it a listen, if you haven't already! It's on YouTube somewhere and if not, the author BenignUser has a novelization of the CD Drama right here on FFnet, under the title "The Door to Summer."

But if still don't feel like doing either, don't worry, I'll summarize their history and Nat-chan's story in the next chapter! It's going to be rather important, moving forward.

Oh, by the way, for those asking about Those Infected by Darkness… The story is more or less on indefinite hiatus for a lot of reasons, buuut I might have a surprise for you guys in the near future—keep an eye out!

Remember to review, please! :)