Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Another memorial. ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

We are adventurers, we were heroes… In times of darkness, we were always summoned, and even if it took a while… in the end, we saved both worlds.

 

To think we could have fallen this far… Even if we ourselves are fighting this evil, not aiding it, even if the digimon will thank us once more, even enjoy bits of our adventure, even if digimon get reincarnated after death, sometimes even keeping their memories…

 

None of that changes this one fact… And the truth is that for all these deaths, all this suffering, we're ultimately the ones to blame.

 

 

“I wanted to forget; I still want to forget… The digital world, for all it meant, everyone would still be so much better without it, these days… I want to at least escape -- after all, I never really could remember the happy memories.

 

"But the errand I gave Wormmon is over, and now that he has reason to return…”

 

Ken continued his musing, still trying to maintain the isolation, still not even having heard what his successor had done regarding Deathmon, of his comrades in the digital world.

 

“Even though the Crest of Kindness never really glowed for me, even with all the suffering I've brought… I can't call myself kind, not even close, not after all I've done, but -- I still don't have it in me to bring that sadness back to his eyes.”

 

The former Digimon Kaiser was dreading the moment, in truth. Wormmon would be happy, even he might be happy, but if he would be… It's not like the happiness was something anywhere near deserved; in the end, he'd only feel worse.

 

The world still wouldn't punish him, no matter how much he wracked up in the way of bad deeds. The only suffering he'd feel was that of his own conscience. Not that he hadn't tried, not that he hadn't gone to the Japanese government in February, only to be informed they did not have jurisdiction over the world where the crimes had occurred; not that he hadn't tried the digital world, but the digimon could only ask why a chosen was trying to get himself thrown in jail; someone so gentle and sweet-sounding just couldn't have been that tyrant; besides, he was one of the chosen children that saved them all.

 

The one who got manipulated into evil, the one who spent over a third of their adventure fighting against the others, but somehow… They had all come to that party of his, they had all been so friendly, so accepting; even Iori came around.

 

Of course, their bitterness was growing, what with Hikari's appearance to him a few days ago and all, but it wasn't Hikari that had spoke cruelly, and even if she had… It was only two days after Odaiba Memorial, two days after he skipped out on something so important to all of them; there would be reason for cruelty.

 

As if having been Kaiser wasn't reason enough… Ken continued down this spiral of dark thoughts, perhaps thankful he wasn't in the digital world, though he was sure to keep light vacant enough from his room that it at least looked like a cave, ignoring the glowing computer, ignoring the open gate.

 

Not noticing the falling, ten-legged, insanely devoted insect, the so-called worm that still wouldn't leave him… He had remembered to move the keyboard and place a pillow underneath the monitor, of course, it wasn't like he'd let Wormmon materialize on such a bumpy surface, so he didn't even hear a scream of confusion or landing-awkwardness telling the former tyrant that his digimon had returned.

 

It wasn't really until the green digimon slithered up that he noticed; not until those short, familiar legs curled up around his own, causing that well-known, never-deserved sensation of mild contentment.

“Does he even remember?” Ken wondered, half-wishing that feeling from last December could return; he had actually managed to be cheerful then, hadn't he? That party, Daisuke and the others, so accepting… even Iori forgave him…

 

“Ken-chan?”

 

“Yes, he does… He's mentioned it plenty of times, even feeling guilty because he didn't stop me… He tried every single time, but I just hurt him and kept tormenting innocent digimon!”

 

“Ken-chan, it's been really hard on you. How about you do a nice bit of mourning, remember the digimon you saved afterward, and let us both put the past behind us.”

 

The black-haired teen glanced at his digimon, wishing he could just let it go so easily.

 

“Fine then. How `bout we go to the digital world, stop Noriko from following in your footsteps, kill Deathmon, and maybe the digimon will forgive you and you can finally leave that world.”

 

“I've already left, haven't I? Even if a few chosen call me back, even though I'm talking to a digimon, that doesn't change the truth… I barely even go there anymore, I ditched them on August 1; even this new adventure I've barely even been there…”

 

“You're a chosen child; I don't think you can put your past behind you until you protect the future. What happened to the bitter Ken that wanted to knock over every dark tower in the entire digital world?”

 

Ken sighed, half a mind to say “he grew up” or “he succeeded,” the black monoliths no longer seemed to dot the digital landscape; the map on his black digivice gave every area as white… The dark seeds still grew, but he was a victim there, not a cause, even if there was one kid declaring herself Empress and following so closely down his old path.

 

“But I tried; she won't listen. And this isn't like some fight-obsessed anim; neither I nor Wormmon will persuade her in the midst of combat; the best we can hope for is utter victory… Though with her strength, that's an insane hope.”

 

“There's an enemy in the base. If Penmon opposes Noriko, the results should be the same.”

 

“Do you know how hard it was for me to turn against you, even after all the things you did to me? Are you going to let Noriko and Penmon go through that same thing?”

 

Ken nodded; then a dark, crushing thought crossed his mind. “I do want to help, even if I've already undone everything I've done… But isn't victory impossible without power?”

 

The insect, slithering up Ken's leg, shook his round, antenna-holding head. “Daisuke risked a lot to get you onside; he had faith in you as soon as the whip shattered. Doesn't he deserve a little trust?”

 

The bearer of kindness, though crestless, nodded… It was time he became a true chosen child, time for a digital adventure not brought on simply to undo all the suffering he caused.

 

And now, with the clarity of a sorrowful past, missing August 1 seemed sensible to him. After all, his deeds last year were only to undo his mistakes, constantly trying to fight it alone, knowing the digital world would have been better if he had never even entered it.

 

It was right then, as he held of his digivice, at least this time, for this adventure… For once, if only for this single, brief moment, Ken actually thought himself worthy of being called a chosen child.

 

 

Awakening on a mountain, freezing in the cold, digital air… Nestled together for warmth, or for that was how the battle ended, dozing off so quickly that none even noticed that Noriko was still there, or bothered to ponder why the Tsarina didn't kill them, or why she turned Chimeramon towards saving them.

 

And there they were, huddled for warmth on a mountain not unlike infinity, nostalgically conscious, amidst tired digimon, too far from any portal to return…

 

Jou had climbed with Gomamon back to the rest of them, his sense of responsibility still strong, even if he couldn't exactly do much of anything for the others… He pondered making the summit like before, but things were different; they were heroes, not appetizing wanderers, and if it were under enemy control… Well, climbing a mountain would give a view, but the view was on both sides, and there were plenty of evil digimon with superb eyesight and aim.

 

And if one chosen child was on the mountain, there was a good chance of others, so they'd have to level the place. It wasn't like he could even take the risk. He saw the others, eagerly running up to them; he was a chosen child (If neglected and unpopular, if less-renowned than Iori, if never gaining that reverence or even interest among those who followed his heroics…) he had gone through that adventure; he had helped save that world... And even if he had been distant and overly responsible, he was still one of them, so of course he greeted his comrades.

 

Koushirou was the only one to greet him back.

 

“Hi.” He waved meekly, half an eye still looking towards the wounded, battle-damaged others… Taichi was still beating himself up about it, even if all he had done wrong was having a little too much faith in the others, even if they had all survived - then again, chosen children had always managed to avoid casualties.

 

Sora was absentmindedly pondering how they were all thinking of the battle at hand while trapped in the digital world, a guilty smile on her meek face, even while she hoped everyone would be okay, even as she tried to bandage Nyokimon and get her wounded digimon, her digimon so exhausted that even her birdlike form was gone, to become a Piyomon once more. While filled with concern for Takeru, it wasn't exactly doubtful that there was treachery in Deathmon's return, and Sora knew the chosen of hope well enough that she could at least guess it was him…

 

Miyako hadn't left Hikari's exhausted side, placing the wounded bearer of light's head on her lap for support; it was not good for someone so wounded to be on such cold ground, though it wasn't like she didn't want Hikari's head there... And her gaze hadn't left the injured girl's form.

 

The other four were somewhere in the mix, nursing their own wounds, concerned for their friends, digimon partners, and secret loves, sad about aspects of the battle, wondering why in the digital world Noriko had saved them.

 

“It's been a while, hasn't it?” Yamato remarked absentmindedly, glad that at least the others were with him.

 

“It doesn't really feel like an adventure until we all get stuck away from home,” Sora answered, smirking over the protests of the younger chosen.

 

“Yeah, but we still haven't separated,” Taichi said, Yamato breathing words of thanks… “Heck, we haven't even fought about who should lead us.”

 

“Daisuke has the goggles, but you older kids should learn from us. Doesn't matter who leads; we can always ignore him,” Takeru answered, his mind going through the dramatic speeches Daisuke made, the fact that his advice was generally held in such a way that speeches like that were needed. Taichi had always commanded more loyalty, even when he was just as stupid.

 

Miyako, happy the chosen had their spirit back, did not mind stepping down, or even just having her role be forgotten… Gomamon wasn't quite as thrilled about it, but he was Gomamon, no one would listen, and Daisuke, despite his efforts, despite his newfound bits of understanding, despite failing as a commanding presence so badly that Miyako turned into the leader without giving him a thought, could not find anyone to take his goggles.

 

“Keep `em, Daisuke. But remember…” Miyako began, holding two fingers outward in a shape resembling victory or peace, casting a gaze the unconscious Hikari's way, “The leader doesn't always get the girl.”

 

Taichi, Yamato, and Sora looked nervously towards one another at that comment, then launched into an amused, unified smile.

 

“Hey, wait a minute!” Daisuke answered, thinking it had been too long since he had hit on Hikari. (Though he wasn't sure if it was Hikari he wanted… Better her than someone who only tried to forget, he supposed.) “We can't get back or anything?”

 

Sora looked towards the leader of the new chosen, remembering trekking all the way to a Pyokomon village only to find birdseed, a mix of pity and nostalgia in her eyes; still they were discussing the past… But at least it was an amusing discussion, right?

 

It was Hikari that made them all focus again, even if she was only now awakening… There was a time when she would have apologized, and her light spirit might have mocked their “foolish intervention” with scorn, but the only things she had at present were a single teardrop and a few words of thanks. The girl coughed as she spoke, sparking the concern from her newer comrades that once came from only Taichi, but it wasn't like she would avoid thanking them, touched as she was.

 

A significant chunk of time passed filled with such reminiscence; hours, the chosen surmised, if the worlds were synchronized and they had properly grasped the digital sun. But in time, even wounded, even if it would be a long hike…

 

They were chosen once more, and at least this time they'd walk downhill, at least these days digimon thought them heroes, even Sora or Takeru, and after so much closeness and a few months apart, the journey could hardly be boring.

 

So even amidst the war, even with the possibility that the taint of evil had overthrown even the free will of the digimon around them -- the nostalgic, yet somehow happy chosen children continued on, even managing to forget how the digital world was always bittersweet.

 

 

Piccolomon and Wizarmon, Leomon and Whamon, thousands of Numemon, and the entirety of the Village of Beginnings... They hadn't been forgotten, nothing like that, nothing so terrible. Their stories were still engraved as memories; they were still cause for mourning. But, there was something about that sad wish, something about that adventure, something in the heart of the holder of love that caused those memories to be, well… neglected.

 

Or, perhaps, callously tossed aside for the sake of adventure, as times had truly become that boring. But even if Black War Greymon and Oikawa were evil at one point, even if the second group of chosen children had done a far better job saving innocent lives - this was the exception, not the rule. Definitely not the rule, as Palmon had already shown. But the wish had been made, the time of war had begun, and as for Deathmon's rampage...

 

The chosen children continued their journey down the mountainside, barely even taking note of the bipedal lions in the distance, at least until they spoke, talking to their approaching saviors…

 

“Chosen children… It's good to see a familiar face, if only from the legends,” the head swords-feline spoke, bleeding from his thick feline sword-arm.

 

“What happened?” Hikari asked, concerned despite her own exhaustion and many wounds.

 

“Let me ask the questions, you need to save your strength,” Taichi ordered, as the lion opened his mouth to answer…

“The Leomon Corps have always been valiant warriors, but at times, even we are no match,” he answered sadly, sensing the need for an explanation. “Our little army's protected this area for a while, wandering about fighting evil digimon wherever they threatened. And we thought we were strong - not even Ogremon matched up to us; for years we kept the world safe for those parts we could reach.”

 

The lion by his right opened his fanged, leonine mouth. “She came too quickly; we fought with all our might, but we just weren't strong enough…” he spoke, wishing to say no more.

 

It took another Leomon to actually finish the explanation, as if the memories were simply too painful for any of them to state in full: remembering it alone was painful enough.

 

“We were on alert and everything, knew she was coming our way, ready to send a hail of beast fists into the sky. And that beast of hers just flew over us and torched the Tsunomon village; we couldn't do anything but watch those poor digimon bleed!”

 

“I can see…” Jou said, resisting the urge to bring the benefits of modern medicine to the many-wounded Leomon, though he probably wouldn't be fast enough to save more than a couple lives.

 

“Though we certainly tried… I led the charge,” he began, remembering the distant six-winged beast, the attack into green light, hearing the screams of vaporizing lions… “Someone had to attack, and I had always firmly believed in the ideals of the Leomon Corps, the need to fight evil even when we couldn't win…

 

“Those you see here are only a third of who we once had - the rest. And of the Tsunomon village and the others Chimeramon came for… I can not say for certain, but it is my firm belief that none survived.”

 

“None survived… Out of how many, thousands, millions, dying from Chimeramon's many claws? And we mourned that one Leomon so much, so to see so many like him sacrifice themselves…” Sora clutched a hand to her dark, once immensely loving heart, knowing Mimi would not come this time to dig their graves.

 

“What's passed has passed; let's focus on the future.” A noble sentiment, but one she could never live up to; it wasn't like she'd be able to bury such a past when this adventure, this battle against evil was all she had truly wanted… She'd be doing these so-called good deeds anyway, controlling her damage, but still leaving the digital world a deadly playground for the chosen children.

 

Even though Sora Takenouchi could now call herself alive, like all the chosen children could this month, it would be a life seen through waterlogged eyes overwhelmed by tears.

 

And yes, she cried. Cried enough tears that the wounded Leomon attempted to make a gesture of sympathy, only to back down with an uncharacteristic hiss, deeply enough that every chosen would attempt words of comfort, but she would only run away.

 

It was better when her crest simply didn't glow. At least Pico Devimon and Vamdemon weren't her fault, though she was charged with the task of stopping them; that was failing a quest, not destroying a world herself. And it didn't help, but the others looking at her, baffled though some of them might be, were certainly saddened too, though they (barely) endured the pain.

 

Even Takeru had trouble thinking it would be worth it for another adventure, and it seemed like the dead themselves were the only ones who had any power to comfort… Only Koushirou's overly analytical mind could even think up a reason to hope, and simply mentioning that reason would far more likely bring tears, so he kept silent, simply remembering one fact… The truth that four years and six days ago, Wizarmon, unable to stop almost any of Vamdemon's atrocities or even keep the vampire's whip off Tailmon, died without regrets.

 

Perhaps, in the one feeble silver lining of hope even the one who once held that crest could not find, the wizard digimon would never have been so near Tailmon's heart, never so content with the life he lived, if the digital world had been brought to eternal peace.

 

 

Noriko paced around her floating base once more, asking that same question of herself. “Why?”

 

Deathmon had been wounded, quite seriously, seriously enough that a decent-strength attack at that point might have actually killed the beast… He'd be facing a full-strength Chimeramon, after all, had only she ordered her digimon to launch his attack on Deathmon… That should have been enough to finish the job, to secure power over the digital world.

 

Power… Basic balance-of-power theory seemed to work for keeping the chosen alive, but she'd be facing Deathmon alone; the digimon themselves would ensure her victory. But that only made sense if Deathmon would have lived anyhow, otherwise… Well, the chosen alone clearly weren't strong enough to stop her, even if they had gotten lucky far too many times before.

 

The young girl ended her short walk, rested her back on her throne, and looked through all-seeing screens, yet with a mind only trying to remember a certain feeling…

 

There was something in her, of that she was certain, something driving the dark seed empress to such heroic deeds. “What, like I'm a chosen child or something?”

 

It did kind of make sense: this was the natural assumption for a nine-year-old kid in the digital world, even one expressing this bitterness toward humanity. And even if she showed a bit of contempt at times, when all was said and done, she had never even wounded Penmon, and there was the intervention against Deathmon to think about … Noriko had to smirk at the idea of her as a chosen child… But she had to ponder it as well; it was too amusing. (Not that the gods chose well or anything... As far as she was concerned, they were just some kids unable to live up to the challenge until the last minute, leaving the digital world too soon so the Dark Masters could take over, spending forever to activate their crests, ultimately pathetic.)

 

Come to think of it, if she was made a chosen child for the fight against the Digimon Kaiser and the rest, Noriko couldn't avoid believing she'd have done much, much better. … But it was corny, foolish, hypocritical; Ken had shown her well enough what sort of silly things they believed. If she could see it after only nine years, what was keeping them from realizing their foolishness?

 

It just simply wasn't sensible; the holy beasts were supposed to choose better than that. Purity and innocence were lofty ideals, but easily smashed ones, and choosing heroes based on childhood foolishness; the protectors of the world had to know better than that, didn't they?

 

“Well, I am conquering rather quickly,” she remarked, half a mind to storm the human world; at least there, stupidity wouldn't reach the top. But here… Her enemies were courage, friendship, hope, light, love: the sort of things that were destroyed by simple reality.

 

So letting her aerial base coast along with the winds, too distracted to even set a course… All she could ask, through her haze of confusion and destiny, was a simple question. “Then why did I save them?”

 

 

“Something's coming…” Tailmon spoke, her catlike ears able to definitely pick up something in the distance, something coming from the distant air, as if floating, and with it, an odd, otherworldly chill… It was an unusual sensation, the sort caused by the dark ocean or a floating fortress filled with viral nightmare soldiers, sending a chill up her fur as she saw a bit of darkness float out of a cloud… Darkness. Floating. As if from some evil chariot, pulled by black-shrouded Devidramon. Tailmon couldn't help but count herself fearful, just looking at it approach was scary enough, watching the sky darken around it through her, as if the approaching object simply destroyed all light…

 

But he was dead now, wasn't he? Truly dead, not just a Vamdemon-death leading to a more powerful return… Even in her head the reasoning sounded stupid. But he had taken what was effectively a contained nuclear explosion through his soul, right? That had to have killed him.

 

“Just like when I shot that arrow of heaven through his heart. Just like when the crests bound him and the ultimates attacked, and the young digimon said so confidently that we defeated him for good this time… How can we ever know, when can we ever consign him to the past, when will the scars under my gloves hold only dark memories?”

 

Upon closer, thankful inspection, it wasn't Vamdemon's chariot; just Noriko's floating fortress.

 

“Beast King Fist!” And at that cry, Tailmon turned, watching one of the healthier Leomon strain his arm to shoot a lion's head of energy into the sky, towards the approaching base…

 

“Leomon, why are you attacking?” Sora asked, a bit taken aback by the suddenness of the strike.

 

“Have you considered what's in that fortress?” the wounded lion roared back, his fighting spirit intact, wondering if that chosen child girl could really be that stupid. “She's not keeping a bunch of fluffy Patamon up there; that base contains an army.”

 

A brown, furry, quite fluffy Patamon took offense to that statement from atop Takeru's hat, but found himself ignored by the bipedal feline digimon.

 

“Yeah, there are digimon there, innocent, controlled ones! Have you at all considered what will happen to them if you manage to crash the base? It's not just gonna break their dark rings!”

 

The Leomon looked sadly at Iori, knowing that no words about “the way of the warrior” would truly be of any help to this kid, the chosen who had only had to kill once in his entire adventure, and even then only in jogress. The kid who once caught Noriko, who came so close towards turning her to good… There wasn't an argument he could make about different tactics or necessities in war, Iori knew all too well, and even his cold, rational mind was tempered by a moral character far too strong to kill innocents, even for the greater good… The warrior digimon didn't find it easy himself, either, but he had seen far too much of what Noriko had done.

 

Taichi, Yamato, Takeru, Jou - one of them might have given a lecture about the needs of the many or the horrors of war, about how the digimon would fly out at them and ravage the digital world given half the chance, even if they were controlled… But the way things were going, broken as they were, only Koushirou had even the composure.

 

“Iori-san…” Koushirou began heavily, trying to avoid talking down to Iori as a child, despite his youth, but simply trying to treat him as an honorable pacifist unwilling to commit atrocities. “Are you familiar with the theory behind collateral damage?”

 

Iori nodded, trying to avoid going into an outburst of anger; anger could only prove counter-productive when power was on the other side. “Forgive me for saying this, but I honestly don't think it applies here.”

 

“It doesn't?” Koushirou answered, baffled by the younger one's words. “Please explain, Iori-san.”

 

“While it is true that murdering these digimon would indeed stop a greater evil…” he said, looking at the Leomon's pained, empty firing, the chosen children's half-hearted effort, Noriko ignoring it all, as if it didn't faze her. The results of a massacre would be terrible, yes, but was it really worth debating the ethics of a plan so obviously bound for harmless failure?

 

Still, it would be rude not to explain. “The fact remains that not a single evil digimon would die, and Noriko might even be an ally by now, so attacking here is simply a massacre.”

 

Koushirou nodded, a bit surprised at how convincing the new holder of curiosity had become… Even given his traits, his maturity, he had never expected someone as young as Iori to be able to sway others (though there was one time Takeru did the same).

 

“Leomon doesn't expect to win this battle.” Yamato stated plainly, coldly, watching the useless lion-heads, the digimon losing strength… “I'm just glad Mimi's not around to see this.”

 

“You mean…” Sora began her answer; she probably wouldn't have finished the thought even if this “adventure” wasn't all for her to blame, even if this Leomon would have died anyway.

 

Taichi nodded. “I've seen it before, but it was always self-sacrifice, not just throwing their lives away…”

 

Iori, Miyako, and Daisuke glanced at the others, wondering to what exactly the older children were referencing, but they all seemed to have a fair bit of knowledge about the dying warrior… They weren't the mature sort; they wouldn't even cast any knowing, sympathetic looks, but it was clear there was something painful involving a Leomon in their previous adventure…

 

They didn't know or anything, and tempted as they were to jump in, there were too many innocent digimon in the base. There was the other side, of course but even if she did stop Deathmon; even if, in terms of innocent digimon dying, her victory would actually be better...

 

When dealing with a self-sacrificial hero, a veteran risking his life countless times to protect others, when this warrior is using all his power in an attempt to slay a brutal tyrant… Well, there was a level of nobility, a level of admiration, a certain respect they had for the lion, a feeling that kept them from stopping him… They may not have liked his deeds, but going to attack him and help out the empress just couldn't be done; the second group simply wasn't heartless enough to save hundreds of lives.

 

Even if it was risking millions.

 

So with nothing else to do, they watched, tears not yet in their eyes… As the Leomon strained, on the verge of collapsing, as the Tsarina laughed, preparing her finishing blow, all they would do, all any of them would do was watch, but the tears came eventually, as the others simply watched the green cone of death in sad horror.

 

The chosen children weren't supposed to be this helpless.

 

 

Sora glanced at the post-battlefield scene, thinking of the heroically resisting Leomon corps, if suicide truly counted as heroic.

 

She noticed something floating by in the background. It didn't seem much of something, just odd chunks of brown and black, perhaps dirt from some mountainside wind? It didn't matter what it was to her or anything; the slaughter was horrible enough, she was enough to blame…

 

Putting her head to her knees, sobbing in memorial, she tried to think of some other reason; anything to keep her from the blame she so richly deserved. The world was a cruel place; the dark seed children would have turned eventually, and if not, that was Taichi and Hikari failing, not her…

 

Her mind went over the phrase “dark seed children,” as in the plural, remembering how even in childhood, the Japanese educational system can be cruel. Tears flowing down her auburn hair, she scanned for thoughts of what could happen next in such a situation, but her mind mercifully failed to connect…

 

Yes, it was merciful. It may prove to have dire consequences later on - she couldn't tell - but this brain of hers was truly showing mercy, if nothing else. Piyomon was Birdramon at the moment, and had gone off in reconnaissance to view the extent of the devastation; the bearer of love had all but ordered it, so there would be no bird digimon nestling against her leg.

 

No Takeru to come to her arms either, and if Taichi and Yamato hadn't figured it out by now, given her earlier reactions, neither would even ask anything romantic of her… It would be this way, simply one over-worrying, supposedly loving girl, crying on a mountainside, a heart torn between adventure and mourning the many digimon she had lost—no, the many digimon she had killed.

 

 

Hikari stretched her arms out; more to the point, she had regained the strength to stretch her arms. The battle had been long, tiring; she had always used her light powers indirectly before, but an aftermath like this…

 

She hadn't expected it or anything; at least, she remembered risking everything, but she always thought that meant life or limb, not the utter depths of her energy. Admittedly, she was among friends, even as out-of-whack Miyako's hormones got sometimes, she had too much respect for her to try anything, and even if she did there were plenty of chosen children around; so the bearer of light could feel safe, at least…

 

That wasn't the issue. She peered at her fellow chosen children, watching her broken allies, their tears seeming to be of mourning… It was a deep sadness in each one, even Taichi had broken down about his poor leadership; he wouldn't start a revenge mission this time.

 

Naturally, her eyes turned to Takeru most of all, the bishounen's back curved, his eyes focused on the white-green digivice, his hands clutching it with sorrow; but the back would be just so good for laying against… No, she couldn't think that way, even if he looked hot, it would be from his tears and poses of sorrow… And the blonde-haired chosen child seemed just so sad, sadder than she could ever recall. (Although she did remember her brother talking about this one time when Angemon first evolved…)

 

“Takeru-kun, even I lose sometimes, evil's hardly an easy foe… You shouldn't beat yourself up so much about it.”

 

The bearer of hope nodded slightly, lifting his head; such a sad pose never really suited him anyway. Then again, he was too old these days to just let the tears flow, even if such crying had made him not succumb to his own fears, and his channeling of sorrow into hatred for darkness would only turn him towards self-loathing… It was that bad. After all, whom could he blame, when this was his own wish?

 

“It's not like that…”

 

Hikari frowned, saddened, trying to think… That he could be so sad while there was still a battle to be fought, even if they had only known each other for four years, the bearer of light could still think back to him as a little kid, watching the Numemon, not even becoming anywhere near this beat-up about it afterward, the tragedy that would make him like this while keeping Patamon and Yamato alive simply didn't exist. “Unless…”

 

She thought deeply, his odd guilt, his sneaking around, why he cursed his digivice, of all things, even how Noriko managed to find Deathmon and what Miyako was holding back telling her… It made sense. There was nothing she wanted less, and sensible things could turn out to be false assumptions, but… It made sense, dammit!

 

Takeru looked back to his digivice, thinking of when it first activated, finding it as powerless to truly help him as ever. What good would Angemon be now? Could a hand of fate evaporate his boredom like it once did to Devimon? Of course not… Angemon was a great warrior, sure, and a beautiful one; to stare at his beautiful, feathery wings, or to gaze at his muscular chest, or all sorts of other things he could do with his digimon that would probably confuse his budding sexuality, he'd probably find it fun and all…

 

But what would the point be? However attractive his digimon was, however devoted he would be to his happiness, and he was sure of that… This was Angemon, not afraid to die for him, hugging him constantly in earlier forms; he wouldn't at all be surprised to be the subject of the angel's lust; at least if angels could lust.

 

And it would certainly be pleasurable, but ultimately pointless… No matter what he did to Angemon, when such things were done, however pleasurable, he would still have his sadness… And even the most pleasurable sensations grow dimmer with time.

 

So his digivice was useless, his adventure seemed useless, too, though at least he felt alive while it happened…

 

Hikari continued to gaze at him, continuing her earlier concerns, her earlier fears, as a random thought murmured through her still-unbroken heart.

 

“We never built that memorial for the Numemon, did we?” She pushed her random thought to the back of her brain, watching the possibly treacherous chosen child she loved…

 

“If it's not that, what is it?” Takeru sighed, shrugged, seeming to have a distinct inability to answer. He knew all too well the answer, of course; this was his own suffering, but…

 

It was just too hard to say it, even if his spirit was cold enough to tell her such a thing, his hatred for the darkness was simply too vast for him to admit falling completely into evil. Even if he weren't as hopeful as before, after all, he was still Takeru.

 

“Though it's not like I hated evil enough not to turn to it for the sake of a new adventure…”

 

“Takeru-kun, did you…” She paused, her suspicions strong; it wasn't at all like she expected a misunderstanding and the return of a destined love. This was a grave question, with a grave response, and only sorrow to follow. Truth be told, she hadn't actually pondered not asking, but not saying anything was looking more and more appealing by the second.

 

If only she hadn't already opened her mouth. As the question was asked, with the tears of true sorrow in his eyes, Takeru weakly nodded.

 

It was all the confirmation she needed to break her heart.

 

 

I… What I wanted…

 

The victory of light, good triumphing over evil, humans and digimon living together in peace… That's not a bad thing, is it?

 

But… Gennai tried to stop me, to keep the worlds apart. Noriko had her own digimon, but she's still proclaimed herself empress, and Takeru…

 

Even Takeru…

 

What happened to us? Hope was never meant to turn to evil… Maybe we wouldn't end up together, but at least I'd thought we'd end up on the same side!

Hikari Yagami, holder of the crest of light, sighed as she thought, remembering all they had shared… Memories, so many, enough times close to each other that everyone tried to set them up; she never exactly minded.

 

He promised to protect me, didn't he? Even in the dark ocean, or against Piemon… I… I don't understand. I don't understand!

 

Is it because I'm too weak? In the end, does good ever really triumph?

 

No… It does. So for chosen children, for even Takeru to turn to evil… Then I'm the one who's failing.

 

 

Iori sighed.

 

Had he known the meaning of Takeru's nod, if those two weren't so ambiguous… Jogress partners or not, he would have been even more hostile to him than he was to Ken — Shakkoumon wasn't that important; he would have thrown his bokken desperately, trying to deal a fatal blow.

 

Daisuke, if he knew of this… Hikari as “his girl” was little more than a dream by now; friendships had grown between them, but he would still be willing to throttle the bearer of hope over this.

 

Taichi… Taichi knew. But Taichi also understood; hard as he might fight what Takeru in part provoked, he wasn't entirely against it… And indecisive as he was today, Hikari would find no revenge from her older brother or anything; it would just have been too hypocritical.

 

Sora was the same, Ken was absent, the others wouldn't have realized… The bond between the partners of angels, between hope and light, it was a strong one, with so many things unseen.

 

But that doesn't just refer to the good parts, and their unspoken, oft-unnoticed love led to that same kind of heartbreak.

 

 

“Hikari?”

 

The girl ignored the black, gloved claw against her skin, ignored the small cat's feeble attempts at pushing her, even ignored the voice of the one who once waited forever to see her…

 

Tailmon didn't want to do this. She really didn't want to do this. Strictly speaking, it contravened everything a chosen child's digimon stood for (Gabumon's occasional biting aside), and it was more Miyako's style anyway.

 

But with how her partner was now… How much of a choice did she really have?

 

Slash! A yellow hand, three black claws, the smooth cheek of the wounded light… “Hikari, snap out of it!”

 

The bearer of light glanced at the white cat digimon, her eyes becoming solid, almost-possessed shapes of brown. “What is it, Tailmon?”

 

The adult-level digimon sighed, noticing the bearer of light's pink-gloved hand, how it didn't even react… The scratch had done nothing; these were not the magic slaps of old, and Tailmon still doubted she could get through to her.

 

But after a cut like that, after having reason to slash the girl she once waited a lifetime for, the feline digimon had to say something. “You're not yourself… There's something wrong with you now, but you haven't said anything, even to me…”

 

The cat dipped her head sadly, her feline eyes showing a far too familiar sorrow, wishing her words could truly save Hikari from falling into the same cave of darkness that seemed to trap every chosen child.

 

“Tailmon…” She gazed at her digimon, looking through unblinking eyes, then glancing back over to the darkness-turned hope. “It's… Takeru-kun.”

 

The former lackey of Vamdemon appeared saddened by this, skillfully repressing the urge to yell something about forgetting him, or about how she still had her digimon's love… She was more mature than that; love born of comfort was common enough in fantasies, but a tactful distance and unrequited deep feelings were more her way, were more all of their ways.

 

Even Miyako hadn't tried to take advantage of the situation; and if Daisuke still had the interest, it seems his adventures had given him the maturity not to… Okay, Daisuke did not still want Hikari, and if this hadn't shown it, what would?

 

No, it would be a sad distance, a respectful distance, a heartbreak amidst close friends… Takeru, for his part, felt quite horrible for his deeds; Sora would do nothing; the triangles still spun, and in time the young Takaishi found himself in Yamato's tender arms… At least he could do this much to be a good brother to Takeru. And Hikari, regardless of words like “respect” or “keeping your distance,” her eyes possessed, the scratch-mark, Miyako's later slap, both useless, simply cried; friends within sight, but still crying alone.

Then again, with light itself betrayed, with the chosen children themselves acting against her dream, something of a break-up with Takeru in a crushing way far worse than she could ever have imagined, all she really wanted to do was cry.

 

 

Noriko, from amidst her floating fortress and confusion-built haze, could only laugh at the weakness of the chosen children. Were those who broke down so easily really the ones who toppled Piemon, Apocalymon, even her predecessor and Vamdemon?

 

Quite plainly, these kids cried over… what? They hadn't even lost, and they were supposed to be the ones saving the digital world?

 

Admittedly, she didn't know. She figured there was something she didn't know; even they weren't this weak in spirit, but that wasn't enough to calm her confused spirit... What could possibly be sad enough to break them like this after a victory? Sure, it was undeserved; sure, it was only because she intervened, but surely she would have smiled if the chosen children had saved her, so long as her armies weren't wiped out. (They were rather important for ruling the world, after all… But the chosen children hadn't lost anyone, so that didn't work either to explain.)

 

But they're fools, aren't they? It's not like they ever made sense, or even like they had their priorities straight. Is it possible that what they're all torn up about doesn't have anything to do with this fight?

 

It was possible, she supposed, foolish as they were. It might even be probable; there was simply no loss, no reason, not even enough innocent lives lost to cause such sadness… She mulled over their encounter with the Leomon corps, then dismissed it; a few dead lions simply couldn't have that sort of impact.

 

So then, what is it? I still don't understand…

 

Sighing, she supposed it was meaningless. Knowing one's enemy was useful and all, but when the enemy was so much weaker… Did it really matter what they thought as they died?

 

 

There would be no further battle today.

 

The chosen continued to walk down the mountain they had found such sorrow, down the mountain with shades of infinity; at least they weren't walking uphill… None of them wanted it to end, but even adventures had their periods of rest.

 

Yeah, resting seasick and tired, hiding in sheer terror. But at least it let them clear their souls, at least it gave their digimon some time to regain strength, at least that now-reconfigured beach was still a place of memories.

 

Looking at the sky, in one of those rare times she wasn't thinking of Hikari's crying form or trying to end her tears, Miyako absentmindedly thought uphill would be more fitting. And rain.

 

Yes, sometimes, even the digital world needed rain… She couldn't recall ever seeing it, but it was needed now, if only for atmosphere. Focusing her ears, trying to hear drizzle, the purple-haired girl found nothing, not even words…

 

She glanced back at the saddened girl, watching Hikari try to hide her tears, wanting to just scoop the brown-haired girl into her comforting arms, as if that would be of any help.

 

Gazing at the rocky mountain-path, thinking once more of the rain failing to pour down on her, she had to wonder. There wasn't much plant life, but there were memories to think of and trees off in the distance, but without rain… It was downright prodigious, really; she'd have to come back here someday and figure out the digital ecosystem. (Though if she lived long enough unbroken, if the digital world was intact, if that day ever came, she'd probably learn only of Tanemon growing meat and magical areas with only the sacred number “404”).

 

But ultimately, that wasn't important.

 

Taichi, Tailmon, Takeru, Daisuke, all respectfully distant or losing themselves in their own, weaker thoughts of failure… Daisuke.

 

Where was Daisuke? What the heck had happened to him, why was he so silent? Yes, his enthusiasm might cause as much groans as helpfulness, but she could really use some cheer right now, and it seemed downright out-of-character for him to just say nothing.

 

She didn't realize at all the impact Ken just disappearing had on him, didn't know of the constant, unanswered messages through the D-terminal, wouldn't have pegged him the type to care about that if she did… Then again, just leaving like that, just ignoring every bit of the digital world, everything they shared… Still, he was stronger than that, so much stronger, right?

 

Miyako's eyes then glimpsed Hikari once more, her sadness so evident even in her slow steps, her back seeming so wounded as she walked, and not just from exhaustion.

 

When the light drowns from sadness…

 

She would do something. She had to do something, for Hikari's sake, for everyone's, most likely.

 

But what… This wasn't just some fairy tale; even if love was the digimental she held, Miyako knew all too well its weaknesses; she couldn't just use that, so…

 

What could she do that would be powerful enough to ease Hikari's sorrow?

 

 

Night descended from the mountaintop crater; a dark night, a night seeming to mirror the digital world's balance in the battle between good and evil. The journey was a long one, but though it may have been cheating of sorts, a bit of food made Aquilamon and Birdramon at least able to fly the chosen into the forest below, if not back to digital civilization.

 

Aquilamon… Miyako sighed. Hawkmon was determined to please her, but no amount of noble, avian charm could do it, not with her former jogress partner as she was.

 

Then again, isn't she going through the same thing with Takeru? I'm no different than Hawkmon, no more powerful… No! I should get myself together!

 

“Perfecto!” the purple-haired girl randomly screamed, pointing off in the distance, as the others sweat-dropped in confusion and unrelieved sorrow.

 

“Umm, Miyako-chan…” Hikari began timidly, her tone oddly deferring; it didn't seem the light-hearted method of conversation familiar among close friends.

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

Time stopped. Or perhaps just the environment around them stopped, but the digital world wasn't prone to normal time anyway, and if only for an instant, from the emotions of the chosen children and a very bored Clockmon… The rivers weren't flowing, the branches were silent, the once-howling wind had suddenly dissipated.

 

More interestingly, Hikari Yagami gave her response; the first request Miyako could ever recall her ever making.

 

“Please stop.”

 

And that was it… The bearer of light, the amazingly unassertive girl who didn't want to be a burden, the one who wouldn't say anything as she fell sick in Mugen Dramon's city so as to not slow anyone down who endured the sickness without complaint…

 

She had made one request to Miyako in her life, not a favor, not (as she had often fantasized) something romantic or perverted, but “please stop” after an attempt to cheer her up with an iconic, chosen-child yell.

 

Of course, the purple-haired girl shut her mouth obediently, she wouldn't deny the bearer of light's one request. But that the only thing she had ever asked was something like this, that her attempt at energy had seemed so mockingly out-of-place to provoke such a reaction from Hikari.

 

The purple-haired girl wouldn't say much of anything for the rest of their journey; Hikari had enough impact to make her quiet, of all things… Her days of chasing after the bishounen-of-the-day—had they ended the moment she gained a jogress partner?

 

She didn't know. And Hikari, ever-compassionate Hikari, didn't even notice Miyako's sadness at that particular request.

 

 

It had been a peaceful day, at least. Save the Leomon, who, like all Leomon, would likely be forever mourned.

 

But despite the lack of soul-crushing battle, or much of anything at all… A single revelation, and Takeru's compassionate self had been found wanting, so he wandered off unnoticed, Patamon on his head.

 

A single revelation and Hikari's heart was broken. Taichi, Yamato, Sora, the older chosen… They knew this sort of thing all too well, of course, and Taichi was the only one among the older children with feelings that powerful towards the bearer of light. But… they weren't happy either, not even close; this narrator has simply turned towards the tears of the others.

 

As night fell, as they pulled up with their digimon to a forest-floor rest, Yamato sleeping in Garurumon's fur, Jou in Ikakkumon's, the rest wishing they had digimon better for warmth… There they were, alone, together, trapped in the digital world.

 

It was, or at least seemed… an interesting adventure. But “interesting” doesn't stop sorrow, angst, or the bittersweet tone the digital world had always held.

 

 

Author's notes:

 

First off, my utmost apologies to the Takari fans… It's such a powerful pairing with such feelings of perfection towards it, though! And I can't resist the urge to poke fun a bit.

 

This chapter was more coupling-ish than I intended… Sorry `bout that.

 

And my complete apologies for the wait. Hope it was worth it, will try for more ambigiuous pairings next time…

 

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! This is not the end, though every chapter works as one!