Infinite Possibilities
Phase 1: Bridge
Chapter 1
Anami Eimi stood outside an enormous office building. It was an early spring day, and errant petals, cherry blossom and others she couldn't name, lay like confetti on the sidewalk. In Japan, spring was the time for new beginnings, like new school years. And, for Eimi, this spring also brought a new internship.
Facilities of this size were common in the states, but in Tokyo? That was another story, even on the outskirts of the city. The grandeur was intimidating, but hovering by the entrance, looking sick with nerves, was unlikely to make a good first impression on her new colleagues. She stumbled through the door with rigid legs, moving like a toy soldier.
Eimi entered LogiTech Labs, heart straining, palms sweating, mind ineffectively churning. She approached a woman in a skirt suit at the reception desk and bowed. "Excuse me, it's my first day. I'm Anami Eimi. I work in research."
The woman offered a reassuring smile. "Welcome! I'm Tanada Chie. I was told to expect you. Please wait while I call someone to have your ID made."
"Y-Yes! Thank you. Um..." Eimi slipped her hand into the pocket of her suit pants. She had been warned that Japanese professionals introduced themselves with business cards, and her company sent hers in advance. But this wasn't a traditional office job, and the receptionist didn't seem to be reaching for her own card. "Um... Do you, do you need this?"
"I'm happy to exchange cards. We have a smooth onboarding process, so please don't be nervous. You can email me for general questions. If I don't know the answer, I'll direct you to someone who does."
Eimi bowed and exchanged the cards, grateful for Chie's kindness. "Thank you very much. I'm in your care."
"Good luck today." Chie seemed to be fighting laughter, and Eimi could only hope she wasn't embarrassing herself. She had prepared for today with countless videos about Japanese work culture. Even so, the sick certainty that nothing substituted for growing up in the culture churned in her gut.
She had been away for far too long.
After some friendly chitchat, Eimi sat to wait for the next colleague in the onboarding process, praying that she would manage that conversation properly.
XXX
At last, Eimi was badged, passed through various HR orientations, and standing with her new boss in the final hour of the work day. Watanabe Reo was young for his position, perhaps in his early forties, and seemed younger still because of his exuberance. He had black hair, brown eyes, and wore round frame glasses. Eimi hadn't spent much time with him, but so far, he was engaged and enthused.
"How are you feeling, Anami-san? Can you concentrate after all that onboarding?"
Eimi had no reason to suspect that there was a wrong answer here. Still, like most new hires, she erred on the side of kissing ass. "I'm well, thank you. Is there something you wanted to show me?"
Reo's warm laugh put her at ease. "Of course there is! You'll want to see our labs! You aren't allowed there unsupervised until you clear your lab safety trainings, but I'd love to give you a quick tour."
A surge of energy reinvigorated Eimi after an anxious, draining day. Was she going to see digimon? Were they allowed in the labs, or did they have a play area? There were so many exciting things to see and learn! "I'd love that, thank you!"
"Right this way, then." Reo led her past rows of office working spaces outfitted with computers and dual monitors. Many of the desks were empty, suggesting that employees were working in the labs. The present researchers seemed to be crunching data, answering emails, or working on presentations. The typical office hallway ended with an atypical heavy duty door equipped with a scanner.
"We badge into the labs," Reo explained, tapping his ID card on the scanner. It beeped, and a light on top flashed green. There was a whirr, followed by an imposing thud. After some thinking, Eimi identified the sound as sliding deadbolts.
Perhaps her confusion was obvious, because Reo explained, "Scanning ID cards ensures that no one who isn't cleared to be in the labs enters. It also lets security know where personnel are, in the event of emergency. Furthermore, the locks ensure that what's inside stays inside."
Eimi had no clue what in god's name to say to that, so she nodded and hoped that was sufficient. The door opened, and she followed her boss through. When it shut, the locks engaged again, another noisy affair.
"Don't worry," Reo said. "Our security is robust, and the digimon you'll be working with are at the baby level. It's true that they can bite, but otherwise, they mostly blow bubbles. Perfectly harmless, a great place for beginners to start."
Eimi was no stranger to interacting with digimon, at least up to the child stage, but she knew better than to say so. Her Chosen friend kept the existence of his partner quiet, if he could. As she understood it, life was easier that way.
"I'm ready for hands on work." Eimi understood that handling digimon might intimidate people, given all the digimon related emergencies that had occurred in Tokyo. But she loved digimon, and had spent years doting on her friend's partner. Gabumon only considered violence when Howl was threatened, and he always looked to him for advice before fighting. As long as Eimi respected the digimon volunteering in the research studies and kept their abilities in mind, then she was confident that no harm would come to her.
"Thrilled to hear it. It isn't easy to find people who are willing to work with our mice."
Eimi stumbled, suddenly off balance. "Mice?"
Reo's smile changed, somehow. Not smaller, but tighter, more rigid. "This is the first lesson about working here, and one of the most important. The public has mixed feelings about our test specimens. We call them subjects, animals, or mice collectively, and individuals are referred to exclusively by their number. This prevents potential panic from the outside world. And as I've already told you, when you refer to what you do, you must keep the nature of your research vague."
"I understand." And she did, sort of. Fear of digimon was common, so it was better for the surrounding populace not to know that there were digital monsters in this building. That knowledge could cause protests, both from people who wanted digimon gone, and from those who wanted to protect them, not knowing that the research was voluntary and ethical.
At the tender age of 21, Eimi already understood that many situations lacked a clear moral solution or protocol. Studying digimon could easily lead to abuse of the creatures she loved. Failure to understand them, their code and how it impacted their biology, could doom them someday.
Where was the line between ignorance and ethical research? Would she be able to navigate this potentially volatile situation? Right now, there were no laws protecting digimon in lab settings. Even mice had more rights than they did, and things never ended well for lab mice.
Those thoughts were far from helpful now, so Eimi focused on the lab. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down a windowless hall lined with freezers on both sides. Humming permeated the hallway, a chorus of electronics. Each door was identical to the one at the main laboratory entrance. She hated to admit it of her new workplace, but it was damned dreary, and a bit unsettling.
Reo stopped at a door identical to all the others, save for the number engraved on a metal plate at the top of its frame. He grabbed a white coat from the wall mounted rack and offered another to Eimi. As they donned the coats, Reo explained, "This is your lab. There are only baby stage digimon here, so again, there's no cause for alarm."
Eimi shrugged off her growing uncertainty. What kind of digimon would she be working with? She had only met Gabumon in person, but she had a packed folder on her laptop of footage of digimon from news reports and online sources. She kept backups on external hard drives, as digimon content was known to mysteriously vanish from the internet. And sometimes, if reports were to be believed, it also disappeared from the private devices the content was uploaded from- and even downloaded to.
"Let's test your badge."
Eimi grabbed the ID card on a lanyard around her neck and tapped it against the spot Reo indicated. There was a beep, a flash of green light, and the groan of moving metal. The door opened, and Eimi wondered what the heck the scientists did in the event of a power outage. Were there emergency backup generators? Did the locks disengage automatically?
Or was everyone locked in until power was restored?
Another surge of discomfort reawakened the one she had just settled. She shuddered and hoped her boss didn't see.
The first thing Eimi noticed was that the lab had windows covered with something that filtered the light and blocked the view outside, like a stick-on shade. Her next observation short-circuited her brain, to the point where walking was impossible. She halted.
The longest wall of the rectangular room was lined with stacked cages, like an animal shelter. Round, pinkish forms filled them, one per unit, with very little room to spare.
Reo stopped beside the closest cages. "These are mostly Koromon. They can only blow bubbles, but they do have impressive teeth."
Eimi stared into the cages, mind numb, skin cold, cold, cold. Her tongue seemed dead, heavy. Somehow, she managed, "They- They aren't moving." The Koromon had rabbit-like ears, long and thin, draping over their backs. Their large eyes were mostly red, and their toothy mouths were shut and still.
"Those are copy digimon; they aren't fully functional. Their code was copied from a real digimon, called a donor. Biologically and digitally, they are identical to their donor. However, they lack consciousness and exist in... Something like a vegetative state." Reo's head tipped as he considered. "Like a doll, maybe."
There was no way Eimi's shock could go unnoticed now. "How- How do you do that?" The more important questions wailed like sirens in her brain, but she didn't dare speak them. How could you do that? And why?
"You'll learn soon enough!" Reo laughed. "We call these specimens shells. We can work on them without risking harm to our donor specimens. Furthermore, because they are stationary, they can't harm our scientists. They also don't need to be fed, and we can generate as many as we need from a single donor."
Panic skyrocketed. Eimi's legs shook, and her heart beat her ribcage as if it meant to burst through, breaking bone and rending flesh. Questions and accusations clawed at her throat, but somehow, she restrained them. Eimi knew from the start that her work as a digimon researcher would be confidential- and that there was potential for both workers and digimon to be abused because of this secretive environment. She chose this company because of how friendly and reasonable the staff was in interviews.
But clearly, it was possible to create a certain impression within the scope of the hiring process. Eimi had no idea what to do, but sharing how she felt here, inside a room locked by a thick metal door, was obviously not the play.
After what felt like a lifetime of ricocheting from emotion to emotion, Eimi landed on, "That seems helpful for studying digimon biology, but not so much behavior."
Reo nodded. "That's true. Our primary goal, of course, is threat suppression, so biology is more important. We've found that our donor specimens aren't the most forthcoming for behavioral studies."
No fucking kidding! Eimi wasn't sure how she was calmly standing here, gazing at rows of caged, motionless digimon. Survival instincts, perhaps? The gods knew that Eimi's were developed. No one mentioned threat suppression during her interviews. Just words like research and safety. How naive that she failed to understand that they were talking about human safety, not digimon safety!
Reo watched her, and Eimi realized that he was waiting for her reaction. "I see. I had no idea specimens could be copied in this way."
"The ability to stabilize the copies is a recent discovery. And of course, it wasn't made public. It would be a disaster if a civilian generated armies of them. Which means, of course, that this very much falls under your nondisclosure agreement."
Oh, I am sure it fucking does. Were her feelings obvious, or was this something Reo said to all new hires? Because she understood the vulnerability of her position, Eimi replied, "Understood."
"Good." Reo continued further into the lab. Cages lined the wall on Eimi's right. On her left, there were aisles of lab benches, many covered with computer equipment. Although digimon were flesh and blood creatures on earth, they could never be separated from their digital origins. They were technology and biology entwined, code generating an organism. The world was at a loss to understand them, which bred desperation, fear, and even hate.
Eimi flinched and jerked towards a harsh banging sound, the din of jostling metal. And, in the top cages in the furthest corner of the lab, she saw three responsive Koromon, each in their own unit. Two had red eyes, and the third's were blue. All three pairs were narrowed and hard, glaring at the scientists. A metal device encircled each one, covering their mouths.
And though her brain felt frozen, a horrific thought registered: What's keeping those devices in place? What are they mounted to?
Reo followed her gaze. "Must be near feeding time. Those are our donor specimens for this lab. Designations listed on the cages. At feeding times, scientists place food in the cages. The gags aren't disengaged until the cage is locked again, since their teeth are dangerous. After a feed, the gags are engaged again. The chatter is distracting, otherwise."
Eimi swallowed over and over and over. The amount of spit in her mouth and the sick churning in her belly warned her that she might vomit. She felt eyes everywhere- the three moving Koromon, glaring at their new captor with undisguised hatred. The motionless Koromon, gazing straight ahead, seeing nothing. Reo staring, no doubt gauging if she would be a liability.
What if he decided that she was? LogiTech wasn't breaking any laws that she knew of, but companies were generally protective of their public image. They wouldn't hurt her if they thought she would damage their reputation, right? They couldn't legally get away with that. It wasn't as if they had government backing, or some other way to hide what they did to their employees.
But what if they do? Where did they get these Koromon? Surely they aren't volunteers, like they told me in the interview. Will I be allowed to quit?
Hell, would she be allowed to leave?
But those questions couldn't carry her through this moment. "What do they eat?" Eimi prayed that the tremor in her voice would pass as fear of the digimon, rather than the other monsters surrounding her.
"Watch the feeding," Reo replied. "Head out after. It's been a long day for you. I'll introduce you to a colleague who will take care of you."
Eimi's vision swam when she nodded. She plastered on a smile and spoke as little as possible as Reo handed her off.
XXX
I need to talk to you. Please. It's urgent.
Eimi stood in her apartment's genkan, still wearing shoes and struggling to hold her bag and type on her phone. She hit send, texting her plea for help to her friend Howl. Then she released a gusty sigh that echoed in the empty space.
The apartment was about 400 square feet, small, but not miniscule by Tokyo standards. She moved out of dorm housing after her second undergraduate year to live closer to her new part-time internship. Which left her in an ugly financial situation, given that she had no intention of staying with LogiTech, but needed the salary to pay rent.
Eimi dropped her belongings and struggled to pry off her shoes with shaking hands. She stepped up into the narrow space that served as galley kitchen and hallway, passing the doors to the toilet room and bathroom to enter the main room in the rear of the apartment. She didn't own much, just clothing, personal care items, some electronics, and school supplies. Her new bed was the only furniture in the room, and she belly flopped onto it with a whump of fabric.
Eimi stared at her phone's screen, willing Howl to respond. It was evening in Tokyo, so it was early in the east coast of the United States. Would he be up? As a college student, that seemed unlikely, but who knew.
Yeah. I'll call you.
Relief struck, then a surge of restless energy. As if moving would help, as if she could find the problem and squash it, Eimi prowled the little room. She picked up the instant her phone rang. "Thank God," she breathed.
"Nah, just me." Despite the joke, there was no humor in Howl's tone. He was a calm person, more stable than laid-back. Eimi admired that about him, so to hear concern in that steady voice...
"Can I switch to video?" Howl asked. Swallowing a sigh, Eimi flicked a switch as she passed and squinted against the onslaught of light. Howl liked to observe, to read people and places, so it tracked that he wanted to see her. That cautious approach, that learned survival skill, was something they shared.
"Sure." Eimi adjusted the call settings, then held her phone horizontally in front of her face. She lowered onto the bed, aware that her pacing would come off as manic. Which was accurate, but she preferred to avoid broadcasting it. Anyway, she might give Howl motion sickness if she kept moving.
Howard Davis, aka Howl, appeared onscreen, wearing the slight smile that was his neutral expression. He was black, with dark hair shaved close to his scalp. His brown eyes possessed the animation of a sharp, intelligent person. He was fit, but not bulky.
Howl knelt by a duffel bag on the floor, packing it. This implied that Gabumon was holding his phone. "Gabumon?" Eimi asked. "How are you?"
Purple claws briefly passed over the screen. "Hi, Eimi. I'm well, thanks."
"I'm glad you caught us before I hit the gym." Howl tossed a towel into the bag. He was a hard working, driven person. It didn't surprise Eimi that he started his morning with a workout.
He glanced up and scowled into the camera lens. "Wait. Wasn't today your first day of work? Bad time for an emergency."
"You got it in one." As he often did. Howl sometimes joked that his instincts stemmed from surviving life in a rough neighborhood (the same one Eimi moved to in middle school), helping his father care for his two younger sisters. Eimi's opinion was that he was a powerful human, regardless of circumstance. She tried to tell him so without refuting his perspective, but realized early on that the subject was sensitive- and that if he wanted her thoughts, he'd ask.
But today, Howl didn't bother deflecting, explaining, or joking. He looked her in the eyes and said, "You know I had doubts about digimon research."
"I wanted to help," Eimi cried.
Howl winced, shook his head, and shoved a water bottle into the bag. "Damn. It's like Dyani and I said, then. They're not researching digimon to help them."
The tears that Eimi had somehow suppressed finally spilled over. "They, they want to make weapons, or at least find weaknesses against digimon to exploit. Howl- They have Koromon gagged in the lab. That's what they called them, anyway. Little pink round guys."
"Koromon... Gagged? What's that?" Gabumon asked.
Howl's hands froze gripping the duffel bag. He looked up, slightly past the phone, to his digimon parter. "Gagged means their mouth is tied up, usually so they can't talk. Or bite."
"And they were in cages!" Eimi continued. "Tiny cages, all stacked up! And, and there were all of these… manufactured Koromon that couldn't move! They're clones of real Koromon, but apparently just copying the data can't make a functional new digimon."
"What the-" Howl's mouth snapped shut. He tried not to cuss in front of Gabumon, but his partner had heard it all. "That's fu- messed up."
"What's a manufactured digimon?" Gabumon asked.
Howl smacked his forehead and shook his head, as if unable to respond. Slowly, he eased from his knees to his butt. "Buddy, I don't know, and I don't want to know. This is beyond me, Eimi. But first thing's first: are you safe? What happens when your company figures out that you want to study digimon to help them, not to cage them and design weapons?"
How could Eimi know? "I didn't feel safe there. There are metal locking doors and security badges and... I tried to stay calm, but I'd be surprised if my boss didn't notice that I was upset."
"There are no laws protecting digimon from humans," Howl said, reciting what he had pounded into her head. "There are laws protecting human workers, obviously. Uh- Well, I don't know Japanese laws."
"I think it would be illegal to retaliate against me. Still… I don't know. Work accidents can happen any time, right? I think going is a risk."
"Shit." Howl glanced offscreen at Gabumon, who politely did not react. "But if you bail after one day..."
"They'll know I'm whistle blowing," Eimi finished. "At best, I might be black listed in the world of digimon research. At worst..." The shady world of hitmen, kidnappings, and corporate espionage were beyond Eimi. She shrugged helplessly.
"Yeah, okay. You need the experts, and fast. Gabumon, c'mere, please."
The camera moved, following Howl as he sat at his desk and booted up his laptop. "This is Chosen only information, but I trust you. Just promise me you won't tell anyone."
"Of course, I promise."
This was not the time to smile. Smiling was preposterous under these circumstances! And yet, Eimi grinned in her tiny, empty apartment. Chosen shouldn't be mysterious to her, or even particularly interesting. She had been friends with Howl since middle school, and she was one of the first people he called after a large, colorful egg popped out of his computer monitor. Hell, her friendship with Gabumon was one of her oldest ones.
But whenever a hint of Chosen activities or information was revealed, she was giddy as a digimon receiving sweets. And the way Howl peeked over his shoulder and grinned like a brother about to execute the world's most amazing surprise enforced her impression that something good was coming.
"So basically, the Japanese Chosen set up this site, yeah? If a Chosen has a problem, or if there's a digimon emergency, Chosen report it here. Whoever is closest responds."
"There's a secret Chosen network?!" Eimi's face heated as her voice cracked mid squeak.
Howl grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I don't know about secret. We try to keep a low profile, but these days... People know about the Chosen and digimon. But non-Chosen don't need to know our business."
Eimi forced herself to take a deep breath. A million questions crowded her mind, but she had to prioritize. "Okay. So you'll tell the Japanese Chosen about the lab?"
"Uh, you will. I don't speak Japanese. And anyway, can't have you miss a chance to meet your idols."
"Idols?" Eimi tipped her head as her brow furrowed. "I'm interested in Chosen and digimon, but..."
"Oh, please." The way Howl grinned made Eimi tense. "You'll love this. The site is run by… I don't remember his name, but he says we can call him TK if we can't pronounce it. But when a Chosen needs something, the other Chosen figure out who would be best able to help. And at the center of that network is your little crush."
"What!" With enormous restraint, Eimi resisted the urge to slap both hands to her mouth. What good would it do? She had already squawked like a startled parrot. "I do not have a crush on someone from a video from…"
Howl lifted both eyebrows and smirked. "But'cha knew exactly who I meant."
Eimi's mouth snapped shut, lest it betray her once more. After some consideration, she opted to ignore Howl's teasing. "The Diablomon incident was... Gods. The year of our Lord 2000?!"
Howl's mm-hmm was drawn out to epic lengths. "Yep. And that kid who redirected all those emails to Diablomon? He's basically... Hm."
"Basically what?" Showing interest was the last thing she should do, but there was no helping it. The kids from the Diablomon incident, the strongest and most incredible Chosen, were heroes to Eimi. Yagami Taichi and Ishida Yamato, whose digimon merged into a knight to fight Diablomon. Takaishi Takeru, the little boy who tearfully cheered them on. And Izumi Koushiro, the strategist who supported their victory. He impressed Eimi the most, which she unfortunately mentioned too often over the years.
Howl rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. "I dunno. The Chosen adviser? The shadow support? If something is going on, he knows about it, and he's probably already dealing with it."
"You mean Izumi Koushiro? Makes sense. He did prevent an international crisis when he was in grade school."
"Well, you can admire him all you want when you meet him. Don't say I never did anything for you!"
"What do you mean?!" Eimi demanded.
Howl's teasing grin faded, and somehow, Eimi preferred it to the serious look that replaced it. "Eimi... You're in deep shit, here. If digimon are being caged and experimented on in labs, then the Chosen need to know. And I'm pretty sure that's a Kou... Kousheer? Kousheerow..."
"Izumi is easier to say." This mercy was for herself as much as for Howl. She wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if he kept saying Kousheerow.
"It's an Izumi situation. That's why I'm going to walk you through logging into my account and messaging TK directly. If I'm right, he'll put you in contact with Izumi."
The dots connected with an impact like balls in a Newton's cradle. "TK- Takeru! You mean that little boy from the Diablomon incident!"
"Yeah, that is the name. Thank god he's cool with TK."
"Takeru's not as hard as Koushiro. Tah-keh-roo, don't go hard on the second syllable."
"I'm good with TK, thanks. C'mon, let's get you logged in. The sooner we tell TK about this, the sooner you get help. I don't like the idea of you going back to work there."
Eimi's stomach roiled. She hadn't eaten since lunch. How could she keep anything down? "I, I don't know. Even if I stay safe... What will this do to my career?"
Howl exhaled slowly. "Hell... I never mentioned the Chosen network because we're supposed to keep it on the down low. But I should have asked the Chosen if there is a safe way to study digimon before you started applying to jobs at random labs..."
Frankly, asking might have saved Eimi a world of trouble. But then… "If we can help those digimon, then it was for the best," she said gently, aware that Howl felt guilty. "And we can ask them about safer job opportunities now. After all, the Chosen will appreciate that I don't want to cage and experiment on digimon, right?"
"I appreciate that," Gabumon offered, waving a hand in front of the camera's lens.
"Thanks, bud." Eimi sighed. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't mention something so awful to you."
"You should tell me," Gabumon replied. "I can't help if I don't know. I only wish I could come to Japan and help those digimon. But Howl and I will do everything we can to help from here."
Howl reached towards the phone, no doubt ruffling Gabumon's head. "You got it, big guy. Alright, Eimi. Let's get this message out."
"Okay. Thank you, Howl."
"Nah. If digimon are in trouble, then this is what Chosen do. I only wish... I'm worried. The sooner you can connect with a local Chosen, the better. And I know I teased you earlier, but Izumi is the best person to help you now. I don't think there are better hands."
With that decided, they shifted to composing a message for Takeru.
XXX
Ishida Yamato glanced away from his textbook when his phone chirped. He kept it silenced while he studied, but Izumi Koushiro was on his short list of prioritized contacts- and he had a unique alert noise.
Yamato scowled. Years ago, during Vamdemon's siege of Odaiba, Koushiro was too polite to wake the other Chosen for help when a Raremon attacked at night. Only the gods knew what could compel him to reach out at this hour.
There would be no more studying tonight, so Yamato closed his textbook. "Something wrong?" Gabumon asked.
Many college kids lived in dorms, but it wasn't fair to ask a roommate to share space with Gabumon. Yamato lived off campus and commuted to school via motorcycle, leaving Gabumon in his apartment or with Takeru. Arranging his life around a digimon was frustrating. He sacrificed normal college experiences, like dorm life- not to mention the money he spent on rent. But how could he complain? Even now, with an unknown crisis looming, Yamato's worries quieted as he rubbed Gabumon's head.
"Koushiro texted."
Child stage digimon were, as the name implied, child like in attitude. But their stronger and more mature forms were always part of them. And they were never stupid, not by a long shot. Yamato was not surprised when Gabumon tipped his head, eyes averted, considering. "Something is wrong."
"Let's find out." Yamato opened the secure messaging app that Koushiro designed for the Chosen. All communications through it were secure, even from service providers and the government. By now, he knew better than to ask how that was possible. If Koushiro said so, then he trusted it.
May I call? Apologies for contacting you so late.
Sure. No point reminding Koushiro that he could call any time. While Koushiro still took on far more than his fair share of work where digimon and the Chosen were involved, he was the CEO of his own company now, and the center of several massive research networks. He knew how to ask for help and delegate. Regardless, pointing out that Yamato and the rest of Koushiro's friends were always here for him would cause dithering and apologies. Frankly, Yamato didn't have the patience to sit through that.
The phone rang, and Yamato accepted the call. "Hey. I'm putting you on speaker with Gabumon."
"Good evening Yamato-san, Gabumon. I've also got you on speaker with Tentomon." Yamato nodded. It was always good to know when digimon were present, in case they needed certain concepts explained- or avoided.
"It's late, so I think it's best to explain immediately. Takeru-kun just received a distress message from a friend of an American Chosen."
Yamato shared a look with Gabumon, who shrugged. A tiny part of him, the older brother that wanted to be the person Takeru relied on, was a smidge affronted that Koushiro found out about this before him. But that was just a visceral reaction, dregs of the childhood insecurity stemming from his separation from Takeru. As an adult, Yamato acknowledged that his brother did exactly what he was supposed to do.
"Must be bad," Yamato hazarded.
"I'm afraid so. This American Chosen is named Howl-san, and he is also partnered to a Gabumon. He contacted us on behalf of his friend, who lives and works in Tokyo."
"And this friend isn't a Chosen?" What would a non-Chosen have to report on the Chosen network? The only thing that came to mind was a digimon attack. Gabumon grabbed Yamato's knee, signaling that his thoughts were similar.
"That's correct. Howl-san's friend is named Anami Eimi, a third year university student. Her goal is to research digimon, and she just started an internship at a company in that line of work."
That's not an emergency. Yamato waited, knowing that Koushiro was getting to it.
"That's a good goal!" Tentomon's buzzy voice called.
"Agreed. And while Anami-san says she wants to help us understand digimon, so we can better care for them... Apparently, the laboratory she works for has other ideas."
"Koushiro-" With intense effort, Yamato clamped his mouth shut. There was no need to speak his fears before they were proven true, not where Gabumon and Tentomon could hear. Still, he took hold of Gabumon's hand and squeezed.
"I hate to say this, but if Anami-san is being truthful... There are caged digimon in the facility. She writes that they were gagged, and visibly unhappy to be there."
All Yamato could do was swallow hard, pushing down the gorge rising in his throat. Anger would soon follow, but for now... He felt scared, weak. Like he might puke.
Puking was a very real possibility.
"Koushiro-han, why would anyone do that?"
"I'm sorry to tell you something so distressing. I don't know why, but if I had to guess... There are people who fear digimon, and want to discover advantages against them. And there have always been individuals who see digimon as data, not living creatures."
Yamato's memory rewound to his middle school days, when the Digimon Kaiser controlled the Digital World. Yamato wasn't as involved then, since Daisuke's team took over Chosen duties. But he knew that the mistaken notion that digimon were unfeeling bits of data had caused heartache and devastation. It took the Chosen, including Ichijouji Ken, who originally caused much of the damage as the Kaiser, years to repair the damage done to the Digital World.
And for the digimon who were slain to be reborn and regain their former strength.
"That's a crap argument when digimon are visibly living on earth with Chosen." Although Yamato was only in danger of vomiting for a few moments, his nausea lingered, even as fury became his dominant emotion. "What are we going to do?"
There was a slight pause. "We?" Koushiro echoed.
"Don't give me that," Yamato snapped. "You're not handling this alone. We need to call Taichi and the others-"
"And do what?" Koushiro's tone was mild, polite. Somehow, that pissed Yamato off even more.
"We're not leaving those digimon there!"
"I'd never suggest that. But unfortunately, caging and experimenting on..." Koushiro paused, apparently unable to verbalize something so awful. "Well, it's not illegal. However, breaking into the lab and stealing what would technically be viewed as property very much is. And according to Anami-san, these captured digimon are highly secured."
"Yamato." As always, Gabumon spoke his name tenderly, like it was the sweetest of sounds. He took Yamato's hand in both of his. "We'll help them somehow."
Yamato stared at his partner, unsure if the visual soothed him, or upset him more. How could anyone hurt digimon, save for self defense? And Koromon were unlikely to pose a threat, both by nature and by physical capabilities.
Were humans destined to be tormentors of digimon, just because they feared them? Or even worse, because they might be able to profit from them?
"Y-yeah. What's your plan, then, Koushiro?"
"This situation calls for far more resources than we have. We need the support of the National Data Processing Bureau."
There was a hiss as Yamato drew air sharply through his teeth. It must have been loud, because Koushiro continued, "I understand that it isn't our first choice."
"Mm." Yamato didn't trust himself to say more. The National Data Processing Bureau was a fancy way of saying, "Government digimon intelligence agency." From Yamato's perspective, they seemed to be part researchers, part secret service, part military, and one hundred percent sketchy.
When Yamato was in high school, the Chosen were introduced to the National Data Processing Bureau via Nishijima Daigo, who also worked at their school as a calligraphy teacher. The second job was merely a cover for the first, although he seemed to enjoy it.
There was no other way to say it: Daigo was dead. He sacrificed his life to save Taichi, Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken. In the weeks before that, he toed the line between supporting the Chosen and obeying his agency, who treated them more like tools than minors trapped in an impossible situation.
To be fair, it was never clear how much of this mismanagement was intended by the Bureau. Himekawa Maki, Daigo's superior at the agency, leveraged the resources of the Bureau to cause a reboot in the Digital World, all for a chance at being reunited with her partner digimon. To this day, the Chosen didn't know which of her actions were sanctioned by the Bureau, and which were rogue moves. Regardless, the organization's failure to see a problem and intercede did not inspire confidence.
"I don't trust them." Yamato gave his opinion as calmly and succinctly as possible. He was furious, but yelling at Koushiro would achieve nothing. And years of friendship informed Yamato that Koushiro wanted to help, and that he always suggested what he thought was the best course.
And, even while enraged, Yamato knew that Koushiro was usually right.
"I understand, and I agree that being cautious is best. That's why I hoped your father might be able to attend a meeting with Anami-san tomorrow evening."
Yamato shared a stupefied look with Gabumon. "My old man? Why?"
At last, Koushiro's unaffected, businesslike tone faltered. He heaved a tired sigh. "Koushiro-han," Tentomon murmured. "Please, you should rest."
Yamato demanded, "Are you still at the office? It's almost eleven!"
"We're home." Tentomon took every chance to tattle on Koushiro when he worked too hard, so there was no reason to doubt him. "But Koushiro-han is still working!"
"I'm afraid it can't be helped," Koushiro replied. "This situation... It's horrifying. It's unlikely that only one lab has captive digimon, I'm afraid. How are the labs acquiring digimon? How can we save them and end this practice?"
"Normally, I'd tell you to slow down and rest. But..." Yamato hated how much fell on Koushiro. But how could it be helped? He was unique, a peerless intellect in a one-of-a-kind situation. He was one of the earliest digimon researchers, blessed or cursed with firsthand experience with the Digital World. He spent his whole life connecting to hundreds of other capable individuals, like a spider at the center of a massive digital web. Additionally, he was trusted and relied on by the global Chosen, and could contact most of them via the sites and resources he managed to support them.
"I agree. As for your father, I'm afraid Anami-san's situation could easily become a media circus if it isn't handled well. I'd like someone I trust who understands media concerns to advocate for Anami-san."
"What do you mean?" Yamato asked.
"I'll explain further at the meeting, but the outcome of this situation could massively impact her life and career, as well as human/digimon relations."
Yamato didn't fully grasp Koushiro's first point, but the second was straight-forward. "Alright. I'll call him. And I'm coming, too."
"I hate to impose, but I'm relieved to hear that. You'll notice different things than I will, so your input is valuable."
It was tempting to brush that compliment off, given who Koushiro was. Yamato saw his point, though. Like any two people, they had different strengths and weaknesses. And while Koushiro thought about the big picture, Yamato could focus on what was in front of them: this stranger reporting danger and a Bureau agent.
"Have you called Taichi and the others?" Yamato asked. More backup was always a good thing.
"I'm afraid Taichi-san has a shift at work tomorrow night."
Koushiro didn't mention the others, and Yamato opted against pushing. The Chosen were growing up, and they all had obligations. Koushiro chose to make Digital World research his livelihood, so he remained intimately connected to everything involving digimon. Yamato and Taichi still routinely responded to digimon emergencies, as did Daisuke's group. But with everyone spread out and pursuing their future goals, the Japanese Chosen response team usually consisted of Koushiro plus whoever was available in the moment. Today, that was Yamato- and his father, with his news connections.
Still, Yamato considered the Japanese Chosen a team, and his personal friends. "I won't leave any Chosen alone with an agent. Or with someone claiming to know something about digimon that we don't."
Impossibly, his mood dipped even further. During the infection incident surrounding Meicoomon, he felt like a pawn. He never wanted to be in that position again, surrounded by multiple forces, organizations, and individuals who wanted to use the Chosen, both as warriors to further their causes and scapegoats to take any blame.
"Thank you. I'll send the details when I have them."
"Yeah. Is this Anami going to be okay until then?"
"I'm concerned about that, too. The Bureau has agreed to station agents near her laboratory, and apparently they've given her a panic switch. In the meantime, I'm composing a list of things to look out for at the lab and questions to ask, if she feels it's safe to do so."
"I guess it would be suspicious if she bailed..." Yamato tried to imagine Eimi's situation, but couldn't quite manage. He'd been through more frightening experiences than he could name, but most took place in the Digital World. As long as he survived, his life wasn't too impacted on earth, save for processing the trauma. There had to be a lot bouncing through this girl's head right now.
"That's right. It's risky for her to attend, but also for her not to. I'm hoping that having her go with the Bureau's support is the best call..."
The concern in Koushiro's voice made it clear that he would benefit from encouragement. "You're doing your best. And if anything happens, it's not your fault. Her odds are a lot better now than they were before she contacted you."
"That's right, Koushiro-han! You're offering incredible help!"
"Thank you both. If you'll excuse me, there's a lot to be done."
"I can't imagine. But you need to sleep. The digimon and Anami are counting on you."
"You continue to be correct. Thank you, Yamato-han!"
Yamato managed a tiny grin. "Take care of him, Tentomon."
"Of course! Always! Good night Yamato-han, Gabumon!"
Yamato and Gabumon said their good nights and goodbyes. The call ended, and Yamato placed his phone on his desk with a sigh.
"I'm glad you're going to support Koushiro," Gabumon said. "And I'll go to support you."
Yamato gazed at his closest friend, the other him. "Are you sure? It's going to be a difficult conversation."
"That's why I'm going. If you're having a hard time, then I need to be by your side even more than usual."
Yamato managed a weak laugh. What answer had he expected? Gabumon was the other him, after all. "I guess I can't argue with that."
"You could," was Gabumon's blithe response. "But you'd lose."
Author's Note:
Infinite Possibilities will have three phases. The first stars Eimi, the second stars Koushiro, and the third stars Hikari. I commissioned the cover to look like a character select menu; each phase will have its own cover art with the lead front and center (cover available on AO3).
This story explores the realities, issues, and politics of digimon existing on earth, a concept I've been obsessed with for years. It opens about a year and some change before Kizuna, and the events of that film will be covered, too- not so much the film itself as what comes after.
There are couples in this fic, but it isn't a romance. The one worth mentioning is Izumi Koushiro x Anami Eimi, as we do see them get closer and date, although that's never the point or focus of the story. There might be passing mentions of the two canon couples (Yamato x Sora and Ken x Miyako), and of other Chosen going on nonspecified dates, etc.
I've been planning this fic since 2020, and I think it's ambitious and jam packed with interesting ideas! How the world looks when digimon and humans come together is so interesting to me, and I'm so happy to share my ideas with you. Thanks for being here!
Love, Hidden
