Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Ethereal ❯ Reunited ( Chapter 17 )

Chapter XVII

 

The Thynnosmon incident had left Takeru drained for an entire week. This he could handle, though. Wizardmon and Piximon's reactions to the fish digimon appearing out of nowhere was another matter completely. After recovering from the shock Piximon had graciously allowed the Thynnosmon to remain in his garden, but had rebuked Takeru badly for overusing his powers. Because his body was exhausted by the teleportation, the blond had missed out on an entire week's worth of exercise with the sword. Wizardmon had already promised Takeru, however, that when he did return, he would have a lot of pain in store for the blond. It was enough to make Takeru tense and wander about the house aimlessly throughout the entire week despite strict orders for him to rest and recuperate.

 

There was one consolation, however. The others would be arriving soon. Piximon had estimated roughly another few days before they all gathered at his house. Takeru rejoiced in the chance to be with his friends again before remembering what they had all gone through. Hearing the adventures and dangers they encountered made him feel somewhat bitter and shunned—not that he hadn't been already. Takeru knew the rest of the Destined would return with ties even stronger than before and with their memories restored—which meant suspicion and wariness for him. Save Yamato, they were all probably wondering where he had been the past four years when he was supposed to reunite them immediately after the Pathogen incident.

 

Takeru had barely even begun to face his inner demons. He didn't think he could handle facing his friends as well.

 

“Takeru!”

 

The blond glanced up and saw Patamon flying to him before he rested atop his head comfortably. “Are you disobeying Piximon's orders again?” the orange-colored digimon prompted.

 

A brief smile flitted across Takeru's face. “I'm just a little edgy,” he admitted. Ever since the Thynnosmon incident, he had been feeling extremely off balance. He was talking more than he ever had and his nerves were completely strung. His body was exhausted and yet it couldn't stay still.

 

“You know you should rest before resuming your training with Wizardmon—he'll be even more ruthless than before,” advised Patamon.

 

Takeru shot the digimon a weary look. “You think I don't know that?” he remarked dryly.

 

He walked down the wide hall until he reached the entrance to the house. He then ventured outside and gazed out at the sunny sky. A balmy breeze swept past them, making Patamon clutch tightly onto Takeru's head to keep from being blown off. The blond remained still, however, as his gaze settled on the horizon, where he knew the others would be coming from in a few days. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. It would be different to be around them again. He would be the outsider. Takeru opened his eyes and tilted his head back slightly.

 

“Are you going to ask me what took me so long to find the others?”

 

Patamon gazed down at him for a moment before grinning brightly. “It's all right, Takeru. I know you'll tell me when you're ready,” he replied cheerfully.

 

Surprise crossed Takeru's face before melting away into a grateful smile. Patamon had the utmost faith and trust in him—most digimon were naïve in that sense. His friends, however, wouldn't be so yielding. Takeru had already experienced the questioning gazes from Ken and Hikari when he met with them. They were curious, but too afraid to ask. Yamato knew of course, but even he didn't know what type of things Takeru encountered at the ward. He and his parents had visited a few times, but Takeru remained silent during those visits and put up his normal façade to keep their concerns at bay. The ward had driven him to near insanity. The patients, the doctors, and all the tragic stories—it was enough to make Takeru wonder how he had managed to keep his mind intact long enough to recover his original purpose.

 

He had lost four years there. Takeru didn't want to lose any more time.

 

“I went through hell, Patamon,” he murmured quietly.

 

The small digimon looked down at Takeru curiously. “Hell?” he repeated unsurely.

 

Takeru nodded slightly, narrowing his eyes as he gazed into the distance. “I went through hell and came back,” he continued, his tone bland.

 

Patamon looked thoughtful before flying down in front of Takeru's line of vision. “Well, that just means you're stronger now!” he proclaimed brightly.

 

The digimon's words made Takeru smile. It was endearing, this type of innocence and idealism. It made him wish everyone was like this—then perhaps there wouldn't be so much violence and hatred. But if the world was to be in a state of perfection, humans wouldn't exist—for it was humans that caused every negative thing in the world. Takeru believed this, yet he wasn't so jaded to say that the entire human race deserved to die. They caused pain, grief, and death, but they also had the ability to do the opposite. Takeru was sure of this. He had spent years in the ward and saw what terrors lied in the face of humanity—but when he rejoined with his friends again, he witnessed the purity and warmth that still existed in the world.

 

“Look, Takeru! It's a shooting star!”

 

The blond glanced up and to his amazement, saw a shining trail of brilliant light fly across the sky before disappearing quickly. He frowned slightly as Patamon continued gawking. “A shooting star in broad daylight?” he mused aloud.

 

“It means trouble,” quipped a new voice.

 

Takeru turned around and saw Aero gliding over to him. He then registered his words and grew alarmed. “What kind of trouble?” he inquired sharply.

 

Aero's golden eyes stared back deeply into Takeru's own azure ones. “Pathogen. That is the signal of one of the allied neighboring villages. They are being attacked,” he explained slowly.

 

“Do Piximon and Wizardmon know?”

 

“They've already gone out.”

 

Takeru's eyebrows knitted together worriedly. “Shouldn't we help them?” he suggested.

 

Aero shook his head. “Piximon left me with strict orders to keep you here. He doesn't want you overexerting yourself,” he replied.

 

Suddenly another bright light scaled across the sky. Takeru narrowed his eyes. “They're still sending signals. Doesn't this mean they need more help? What if Piximon and Wizardmon aren't enough?” he prompted.

 

“I'm sure there's other digimon that will go and help, Takeru. You don't need to worry so much,” pointed out Patamon as he rested on the blond's shoulder, concern written in his eyes. “You should be resting. I don't even know how you're managing to walk around so actively after that teleportation feat. You used to be knocked out for hours on end.”

 

“I just can't!” exclaimed Takeru suddenly. “I'm completely on edge right now—I think it's because I used so much power, but I know I just can't simply rest.”

 

Aero's eyes scrutinized Takeru's form. “Adrenaline. Piximon said it could happen with you after using your powers to such an extent beyond your normal capabilities—it's also a mental side effect as well,” he said calmly.

 

Patamon flew around in the air nervously. “You can't go anywhere then, Takeru! Who knows what might happen if you do?” he cried out.

 

But the blond's mind was far away as he looked at the sky, watching as a third signal flew across him. He finally steadied himself and looked at Aero firmly. “Look, I know my mind may not be at its best right now, but I do know that those digimon are in trouble. They wouldn't be sending out all those signals for no reason. We need to go and help—even if it's just a little,” he ordered astutely.

 

“Takeru…,” groaned Patamon.

 

“Aero, please,” continued Takeru, staring at the dragon digimon pleadingly. He didn't want to see more suffering—he had enough of sitting around and watching as others did the work.

 

The silvery digimon looked hard at Takeru as a fourth light spewed across the sky. He finally gave into Takeru's request and allowed the young man mount on top of him. He looked back at the blond to make sure he was safely on before rising to the air swiftly with a powerful push. They flew at a considerable pace, passing by areas of land and venturing out of Piximon's territory. When they left, what greeted them was a looming mountain in the horizon and ashen sky. Takeru scrutinized the scene before him critically before spotting a village below them in flames, spouting out dark clouds of smoke.

 

“Aero!” he gasped out.

 

The digimon didn't need to say anything. He lowered to the ground immediately and as soon as his talons touched the earthy surface, Takeru leapt off him and ran to the village, where swarms of Pyocomon ran about frantically.

 

“Where's Piximon and Wizardmon?” he asked urgently.

 

“They haven't arrived yet!” yelled out one Pyocomon before quickly dodging behind a boulder. “You should hide, too! They're coming!”

 

“Who…?”

 

But as Takeru said this, a dark and overwhelming shadow fell over him. A hot breath was released past him, and the blond shuddered at the sudden danger he sensed from the presence. When Takeru glanced up, he saw a tall and towering digimon, his long black arms stretching over to make a grab for him. Instincts swept into motion and Takeru quickly moved away, staring at the digimon in horror.

 

“Devimon,” he whispered, fear and shock in his voice.

 

The digimon smiled sinisterly. “Well, if it isn't young Takeru,” he spoke smoothly, “I didn't think you would ever come back.”

 

Dark and foreboding images flew across Takeru's mind—back to the time when he had been captured by Devimon. This was a time before the Destined formed. Takeru had only been seven and the Digital World was already starting to collapse at that point. Devimon had appeared one day before Takeru in his dreams and taken his mind away to the Digital World. In the real world Takeru had slipped into a two-day coma. Yamato and his parents had been terrified.

 

Those two days where he was in a coma were gruesome. Takeru never knew why he had been taken—and he had never told anyone that he had. It was a frightening time for him. But all Devimon had done was kept him in a black room, while whisperings of evil and darkness echoed around him. Takeru didn't know how he escaped. All he knew was that one second he had been staring into the cold eyes of Devimon and the next, a white ceiling in the hospital with Yamato lying by his side.

 

Now, though, as he stood face to face with the dark digimon, all Takeru could do was stare at him with mortification. “You work for Pathogen,” he whispered idly.

 

Devimon tilted his head to the side, smirking. “So, it took you this long to realize that?” he inquired silkily before tracing Takeru's cheek with a long, bony finger. “Well, well, it seems you have matured quite a bit. But I wonder if that did you any good.”

 

Takeru finally reacted and jerked away from Devimon's touch. He glanced around wildly and saw the village's Pyocomon still running about frantically, trying to escape from other henchmen sent by Pathogen. Aero and Patamon had disappeared from his side—most likely to aid them. That meant Takeru was alone.

 

“This should be fun. My master was disappointed when you escaped into the real world. He knew you would be back, though. But after all this time I think even he began to think you weren't coming back. Now I can inform him that you have, indeed, returned. His revenge will be upon you shortly,” commented Devimon casually.

 

“Why did you take me to the Digital World so long ago?”

 

Devimon's eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh? So you remember that incident?” he remarked aloud wonderingly. “Hmm…why don't you ask Piximon? I'm sure he'll be thrilled to tell you.”

 

Takeru frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked warily.

 

The dark digimon laughed coldly. “You'll find out soon enough, young Takeru. Soon. But now…I'm afraid I must take my leave. You see my master will have wanted to know about your arrival immediately. Let me leave you with a souvenir, though,” he said, smiling charmingly as he flew upwards.

 

Takeru watched in horror as the village burst into wild fire, leaving no chance for escape.

Devimon smiled once more before calling back Pathogen's remaining henchmen and flying off into the distance.

 

The Pyocomon all cried out despairingly.

 

“Takeru! What do we do?” cried out a familiar voice. The blond turned around to see Patamon flying his way. “Aero's taken back as many as he could but there still are so many remaining!”

 

Takeru narrowed his eyes and Patamon seemed to catch on immediately. “No! You're not going to teleport us! It's too much for you—you haven't even recovered properly from the last time,” he protested vehemently.

 

“Do you see Piximon and Wizardmon anywhere? If we wait any longer these digimon will die—and so will we,” reasoned Takeru in an oddly calm manner.

 

Patamon shook his head fervently. “You can't! You could severely hurt yourself in the process, Takeru,” he warned helplessly.

 

“It's good practice anyway, Patamon. I'm going to need to learn to control it eventually,” continued Takeru as he eyed the swarming Pyocomon. “They won't stay still,” he murmured.

 

“Exactly! Do you seriously think you can calm them down now?”

 

The blond closed his eyes. “Well, it doesn't hurt to try,” he muttered to himself.

 

Takeru never attempted to try to teleport anything without maintaining contact with it—but he assumed that it would probably be much more difficult. In this case, though, he had little choice. The digimon were too panicked to listen to him and he needed to get them out safely before they were all deleted. Piximon would scold him severely later on. Wizardmon would probably beat him to near death when they went back to practice. But it was a risk he had to take. Takeru was through standing around waiting for other people to rescue him. He needed to do this.

 

It was difficult to block out everything and everyone. It was chaos around him and his body was still worn from the Thynnosmon incident. Takeru closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to try and calm his mind and spirit. Wizardmon had made him practice this many times. He said that he would never get anything done if he was high-strung and tense. So Takeru focused on the Pyocomon around him. If anything else, he was always good at imagining. He could see their horrorstruck expressions and pictured bringing them to Piximon's fortress—a safe haven for any digimon against Pathogen.

 

Without noticing, a rising swirl of wind and crackling lightning surrounded the entire burning village. The digimon stilled in shock, staring at each other in confusion. Patamon continued flying over Takeru, an anxious look on his face.

 

“Takeru…,” he murmured worriedly as the wind arose around them to form a sphere. It enveloped them entirely and Patamon felt a strange sensation of being sucked somewhere else without him wanting to.

 

The scenery around them disappeared and not a moment later changed to a completely different one—one that depicted Piximon's garden perfectly. All the Pyocomon were there, standing in the exact same places they were in before they had been transported—only their burning village was not with them. They gazed at each other in shock before breaking out into cheers of rejoice. Patamon's wings beat on cheerfully.

 

“Um…where did they come from?”

 

“Where's Piximon?”

 

Patamon turned around and immediately started grinning happily. All of them—the Destined—stood in a circle, staring at the digimon in surprise. He flew towards them. “When did you get here? Piximon predicted you wouldn't be here until a few more days!” he exclaimed joyfully.

 

Taichi glanced at him mildly. “Well, we were in the middle of nowhere—lost and probably getting more lost until we suddenly found ourselves here,” he replied, confusion in his tone as he looked around them. “Where are we?”

 

“Piximon's garden!” answered Patamon cheerfully.

 

“Where's Piximon?” inquired Daisuke confusedly.

 

The orange-colored digimon frowned. “I don't know… We were in the middle of saving a village because—Takeru!” he murmured before suddenly turning around and flying back to where the Pyocomon were still gathered, hopping up and down excitedly.

 

Takeru stood still, looking out at the distance when Patamon reached him. When the digimon fluttered by his head, though, he finally turned around and stared at him calmly. “We made it,” he pointed out, deadpanned.

 

“Are you okay?” inquired Patamon worriedly.

 

But Takeru was looking past Patamon and at the others, whom were staring at him with something akin to bewilderment. “They're here. That was faster than what Piximon said,” he murmured to himself as walked towards them. “When did you get here?”

 

Yamato rushed forward. “Takeru! Are you all right?” he greeted in concern as he examined his brother's face.

 

Takeru blinked. “I feel strangely calm. Where's Piximon?” he replied airily.

 

Yamato frowned noticeably. “We just got here. I think Piximon may have actually been the one to bring us here. What's going anyway? These digimon and you just suddenly appeared out of nowhere,” he commented.

 

“That's because I brought them here. They were under attack from Pathogen. Piximon and Wizardmon were supposed to help them out but for some reason they didn't arrive—so Aero, Patamon, and me decided to go. And now we're here. But Piximon and Wizardmon still aren't.”

 

Takeru felt oddly misplaced, as if he had left a piece of his mind somewhere else after teleporting. His body felt numb and he was talking automatically, with no emotion. He couldn't think properly as he gazed back at Yamato's face. He registered the worry and surprise in his brother's expression but didn't do anything to try and reassure him—he couldn't.

 

“You brought them here? But—”

 

“You stupid, foolish, human!”

 

Suddenly Wizardmon fell upon the scene and bopped Takeru hard on the head with his staff. The blond stumbled slightly from the pressure and rubbed his sore head painfully.

 

“I can't believe you disobeyed Piximon's orders! That was beyond suicide—what you nearly did!” shouted Wizardmon.

 

“If I didn't do anything they would have died,” replied Takeru as he gestured faintly towards the digimon. “And I feel fine.”

 

Wizardmon laughed haughtily. “Fine? Look at yourself! Your face is pale, your body is drained, and you're half visible! You're on your way to becoming a ghost at this rate, Takeru!” he chastised scornfully.

 

Takeru raised his hand and scrutinized it curiously. It was true. He was semitransparent. He looked at Wizardmon. “Where were you and Piximon?” he inquired. He then waved at the others. “They arrived earlier than expected. Did you do this?”

 

Wizardmon sighed and some of his steam left him as he answered. “Yes, we arranged for the rest of the Destined to arrive here. When we got wind of Pathogen attacking the village, we had them brought here sooner because the village was close to where they were and we didn't want them facing off against Pathogen yet. Piximon and I then went off to the village, but we met up with some unexpected trouble,” he explained wearily before looking at Takeru. “I suppose it was a good thing you went instead—but the consequences… You're going back to rehabilitation.”

 

Takeru tilted his head to the side. “Oh?” he remarked, as if this little fact fascinated him.

 

Wizardmon shook his head. “Stupid boy,” he muttered to himself before facing the rest of the Destined. “Well, this is an extremely unexpected reunion but I suppose you should all rest up a bit until Piximon returns. He's still fixing up some of the damage Pathogen did.”

They all nodded mutely.

 

“Wizardmon,” quipped Takeru. The digimon turned around and immediately found himself at the tip of a sharp sword. The blond narrowed his eyes, his attention now focused squarely on him. “Where is he? Where is he and Piximon?”

 

“Takeru!” gasped Yamato.

 

“Dude, are you insane?” exclaimed Taichi.

 

Takeru glanced at them mildly. “What?” he replied offhandedly before tightening his grip on the sword. “I'm perfectly sane—in fact this is the most sane I've ever been since I got here.”

 

It was fortunate Wizardmon had cast a spell that enabled him to summon the sword whenever he needed it. He still could only wield it with his left hand, though. Wizardmon had made sure of that. Takeru bit his lip. The pain in his arm seemed to be an awakening point for him, though. No longer was his brain muddled in a daze. He knew something was wrong as soon as Wizardmon appeared. He had been training far too intensely with the digimon for the past week to let an imposter slip by his watch so easily.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded quietly.

 

A loud cackle was sounded above them and Wizardmon sagged to the ground lifelessly. Takeru backed away in surprise and noticed the nearly invisible strings attached to the body. He looked above and saw a strange wooden digimon laughing.

 

“I guess that's the end of my fiasco!” he exclaimed brightly before hopping down to greet him. “Pinocchimon's the name!”

 

Takeru stared at the digimon for a second before lowering his sword. “Where are Piximon and Wizardmon?” he asked, feeling a strange air of déjà vu.

 

Pinocchimon laughed. “Fighting still! They ordered me to bring the rest of the Destined back here,” he replied before snapping his fingers. Instantly, the puppet of Wizardmon was gone.

 

“Takeru, are you sure you're all right?” queried Yamato, still eyeing his brother worriedly.

The blond looked down at his body and saw that he was still translucent. He allowed for the sword to dissipate into the air before looking at Pinocchimon curiously. “Habilitation?” he repeated faintly.

 

The wooden digimon jumped and Takeru soon found himself attached to several strings. “We'll have you there in a second!” chirped Pinocchimon as he began directing Takeru away. He then looked at the others. “Now you all play nice and wait for Wizardmon and Piximon to return!”

 

Yamato watched as the wooden puppeteer guided Takeru away from the group and back into the house. Worry welled up from within him. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Jyou smiling comfortingly at him.

 

“He'll be all right,” he assured.

 

“But you could see through him… And he didn't sound like himself,” murmured Yamato.

Jyou's eyebrows knitted together.

 

“He was holding a sword with his left hand,” quipped Iori.

 

Everyone looked at him suddenly. The younger boy looked surprised before clarifying his point.

 

“His left arm was injured, right? I just thought it was interesting that he was using it. I thought Piximon said he would never be able to again,” he continued.

 

“Wizardmon's been training him to,” remarked Patamon.

 

Everyone looked up and saw that the small orange digimon had returned.

 

“So he can still use his arm?” inquired Yamato.

 

Patamon nodded brightly, a tint of pride in his eyes. “Yup! He still requires a lot of training but Piximon and Wizardmon are confident that he'll make a complete recovery. The poison will still be making up a part of his digital self—but it'll remain dormant and ineffective,” he replied enthusiastically.

 

Yamato sighed with some relief.

 

“Why was he transparent then?” asked Ken curiously.

 

Patamon's expression darkened. “Last week we rescued a bunch of Thynnosmon. Takeru used his teleportation ability to transfer all of us back to Piximon's garden. It took a lot out of him and he was supposed to stay recovering. But then when we received the signals from the Pyocomon, we had to go. Takeru transferred all of us back again and well…I guess the effort took a toll on his body. He should be okay now, though. He's heading to the Rehabilitation Room,” he explained seriously.

 

“Blondie transferred the entire Thynnosmon colony—and an entire village? Are you sure about that?” inquired Daisuke doubtfully.

 

Patamon's eyes flashed angrily. “Of I course I'm sure! I was there with him!” he snapped.

 

“Whoa, whoa, chill. I'm just saying… He never had that kind of strength before. It used to knock him out for a week to just teleport all twelve of us,” remarked Daisuke unconvincingly.

 

“Yes, well Wizardmon's training has improved his strength and stamina a lot!”

 

“Oh? Good, maybe he can actually help this time round,” commented Daisuke under his breath.

 

Yamato threw a sharp look in his direction. “There are things about him you don't know, Daisuke,” he said stonily.

 

It was as if a deadly coldness washed upon them. Daisuke and Yamato stood against each other, eyes blazing, while everyone watched dubiously.

 

“All I know is that he left—left and came back four years later. I just want an explanation for his absence, but he doesn't even offer that. If you can fill in the gaps, Yamato, please do so because I'm sure I'm not the only one curious about the whereabouts of dear Takeru in the past four years,” Daisuke said slowly, rage evident underneath his cool tone.

 

Yamato shook his head, clenching his fists. “I can't,” he began, looking at the ground with something akin to regret, “it's not my story to tell.”

 

Daisuke gave a bitter laugh. “That's a big help, Yamato, really,” he commented sarcastically before walking off towards Piximon's house. “I'll be around until Piximon arrives.”

 

The group stared off as Daisuke walked towards the house, bearing downtrodden expressions. Eventually, after a few moments of silence, they followed after him until only Yamato remained, still staring at where Daisuke was previously standing. He sighed wearily and looked at the bright sky—representing emotions contradicting his own.

 

“If you knew, Daisuke… You weren't the only one who was forced into maturity at an all-too early age,” he murmured, his words drifting into the wind, carrying a soft echo across the valleys before fading away into obscurity.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TBC

 

And they are reunited. ^_^