Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ch 03 || Freefall

Time passed, it seemed, in the blink of an eye.

Takeru was stuck in a haze, ascending and then descending, ascending and then descending. After the Chosen met up with them at Takeru's location, they decided to leave the digimon in the digital world to keep an eye out for anything suspicious because Mirrormon had vanished under puzzling circumstances and they weren't entirely certain when or if he would show up again. Then they all went home, and Yamato asked if he'd wanted to stay at his place.

A spark of worry lingered in his gaze after he'd spoken, and so Takeru agreed. Except when Yamato called their mother to let them know, his mother had said that she wanted to speak with Takeru first. In person.

Even in his spacey state, Takeru thought that was odd. His mother had left for work around the time Koushiro sent a group message about the emergency alert. She always stayed longer than she needed to, and even then, she wasn't scheduled to come home until around eight or so. It was only one o'clock in the afternoon now.

So, at Koushiro's apartment, Yamato offered him a ride on his electric scooter. After all, Yamato wouldn't allow him to walk all the way home on that bruise on his foot.

He'd wanted to say that he'd walked all the way through the forest with no problem, and it didn't even hurt that much.

Which was true. Sure, it was bruised, but that was all it was—a bruise. Jou had even provided some medical advice before they left the digital world, and while he'd also backed it up with the disclaimer that he wasn't an expert and Takeru's best option would be to get it checked out by a professional, he'd at least said that nothing seemed broken.

Takeru had promised that should his pain get any worse, he would follow Jou's instructions to go see a licensed doctor. Yamato didn't look entirely convinced, but he let it slide in favor of getting Takeru home where he could elevate it.

"Nii-san, you really didn't have to come home with me," Takeru said as they reached his apartment door. Tried to ignore the strange feeling in his head. It felt like it'd only been a few minutes and suddenly they were at his home. Like his apartment was a floor beneath Koushiro's or something, rather than in a separate building entirely. "It really doesn't hurt. Honest."

"I've seen the bruise, bud," Yamato said. "I don't care if you've got a wicked pain tolerance. I wasn't going to let you walk."

Takeru was torn between feeling touched by his brother's concern and exasperated by it. Maybe Yamato was a bit overprotective, and that overshadowed Takeru's words a lot, but… it was nice to know that he cared so deeply.

They searched for me when I was separated from them, he reminded himself, his lips twitching with a fond smile. They weren't going to leave me alone.

That wasn't to say his mother didn't care for him. But—especially now that it was summer—his mother worked a lot of overtime. Sometimes she worked seven days a week. And with Patamon being away in the digital world most of the time… it was lonely. Going to Yamato's to spend the rest of the day with him was awesome.

"Thank you for the ride," he murmured, fingers lingering on the doorknob as he turned to face his brother with a grateful smile. "I really appreciate it."

Yamato's hand came to rest on the top of his head, ruffling his hair. "Anytime."

Takeru chuckled, and then he turned to open the door. It was surprisingly unlocked, which Takeru decided to appreciate because he wasn't even sure if he'd grabbed his key on the way out this morning.

Even before all of what happened in the digital world, Takeru had been in a daze. Maybe it was just the day or something. Even now, it was hard to stay in the now. He kept drifting higher. Higher. Higher...

His mother was waiting for him when they stepped inside and took off their shoes. She sat at the table, looking at her hands, still dressed in the clothes she'd gone to work in. As the door clicked shut, she looked up, and the nervousness in her eyes made Takeru swallow.

Down, down, down he went. Suspended in an endless freefall, pulled toward the ground by the frantic rush of emotions written across his mother's face.

"Takeru," she breathed out, now looking a little sad as she noticed Yamato was with him. "Hi, Yamato."

"Hey," Yamato said awkwardly, nodding in acknowledgment.

And the atmosphere shifted in a split second. Just as Takeru wasn't as close to his father as he would have liked, he knew that Yamato was estranged from their mother. It hurt to think about it, but Takeru learned to accept that this was inevitable. Their family spent more time apart than together.

He still longed for their family to be whole again, but the older he became, the more he realized that that wish would never be granted.

"You can wait outside if you want," Takeru blurted without thinking. He didn't want the tension to grow any thicker. "I'm… I'm sure it'll just take a second, right, Mom?"

Something hesitant and strangely cryptic crawled over his mother's expression. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Smiled, forever strained and sad. "...right."

"You sure you'll be alright?" Yamato said, looking back at him.

He wasn't sure. "Totally."

"O...ok," Yamato said reluctantly, with a sigh. "I think I'm going to stop by the store down the street to pick up some things for lunch. I'll come back to get you?"

Takeru beamed. "Sounds like a plan."

"Put that foot up, 'k?"

"Got it."

Then he was gone again, and the smile, too, slid off his face to join the rest of his body in a state of freefall. Goosebumps rose all over his skin as he turned to look at his mother again. "What happened?"

His mom drew in a shuddering breath. Gestured for him to take a seat. "Your foot is bothering you?"

Takeru complied, but he knew she had a tendency to change the subject when she was nervous. It was something he'd picked up, too, after all. "It's fine." Met her gaze as he lowered himself into the chair across from her. "What's wrong?"

"I…" She swallowed. "I had a meeting today, at work."

"...yeah?"

"My boss… wants me to transfer," she said, each word coming out painfully slow. "He wants me to monitor something, and report on it."

Falling. Falling. Why couldn't he hit the ground yet? Why couldn't he reach that freedom?

She wrung her hands. "It's outside of Tokyo. In… In Kobe. It'd only be for about six months, nine at the latest. Then we could come back and—"

"You promised this was the last time," Takeru mumbled past the huge knot in his throat. It was a wonder he could speak at all while plummeting like this.

His mother fell quiet. Then: "I know I did, Takeru. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting another transfer."

"All my friends are here."

"I know they are. I'm so sorry."

It was childish. The part of his brain that told him to think logically, rather than with emotion; told him that maybe he could come back and visit if it wasn't too expensive. And… and six months wasn't that long, compared to the last time they'd moved.

But… Takeru couldn't help it. They'd moved to Odaiba when he was eleven, and that was over two years ago, but suddenly it felt like it hadn't been that long at all. It felt like he'd only gotten one taste of friendships and stability. He'd have to go to a new school and meet new people and who knew if he could make friends again? It had been by chance that Hikari was in the same homeroom as him.

"I… I don't want to leave again. Please."

"I know you don't, hun…"

She reached across the table, probably wanting to offer some comfort through physical contact, but no amount of physical affection could lift the horrible weight of loneliness on his shoulders, inflicted upon him by her news.

Takeru pulled away, shrinking in on himself. Looked stubbornly at the table, away from her, with tear-glossed eyes.

"...but we have to," his mother finished quietly.

"Can't they ask someone else?" he pleaded. "Can't they get someone else to transfer so we can stay here?"

"It doesn't work like that, Takeru."

Of course it didn't. It was wishful, selfish thinking. Takeru couldn't convince himself to accept the news, though. He would cling to anything he could. Anything to stop him from plummeting or to break his fall completely.

"Please. Please."

"Takeru, I'm sorry." Her voice was strained. "I already accepted it."

Without his permission? Did she just expect him to go along with it? Sure, he had in the past, but he was younger then. He didn't really know what was going on then. And now he did, and he wanted no part of it.

"It's not fair," Takeru whispered.

"I'm sorry."

She kept saying it like that would make it all better. She kept repeating it like that would stop his tears. If she was truly sorry, though, wouldn't she try to change things? Wouldn't she have talked to him before she accepted the job? He didn't care if he was being selfish. He didn't want to leave when it felt like he'd only just arrived in Odaiba.

Without thinking, he stood. His foot didn't even so much as throb as he pushed the chair back with his legs. He didn't spare a second to even question it.

"Takeru, hey, wait a minute," his mom said, standing as well. "Don't do this. Just… just sit with me, and we'll talk about it, alright?"

There wasn't much to talk about. Takeru used a lot of self-control not to admit that out loud, but it was a close call. His world was just slipping past him, and it wouldn't slow down. Nothing would slow down and wait for him to catch up.

I can't leave my friends. I can't leave Nii-san.

"Takeru," she called again. "Takeru, please—"

Takeru didn't listen. He just bolted out the door again, barely even remembering to grab his shoes, and she didn't follow. Maybe because she knew that he needed to blow off some steam, or maybe because she didn't have the energy to argue with him. It didn't really matter to Takeru.

His brother. He had to find his brother.

The door slammed behind him. Takeru kicked off into a sprint, trying to focus through the haze in his brain so he could remember where Yamato had said he was going. His memories were way up high, and he was still sinking rapidly into a bottomless pit. Sinking. Sinking. No way would he be able to reach them.

Nii-san, he thought as he exited the apartment building and glanced around wildly. Where are you?

Where had Yamato parked his electric scooter? Takeru couldn't remember. Everything was already too loud, forever circling around him in his cursed, endless freefall.

His mother's words, painfully fresh in his mind, though he wished they would fly high like the rest of his memories.

The drumbeat in his chest, pumping blood through his entire body like hot, hot lava.

The pounding of his own footsteps, hitting the ground over and over with the desperate, aching need to get away.

And… and Mirrormon and…

And there had been someone else… someone, but who?

"...Nightmare Syndrome…"

Takeru stilled as the two words echoed through his mind out of nowhere and even when it was gone the effect lingered. His breath hitched, eyes popping wide. The hot lava in his veins cooled rapidly, turning into molten rock. Now there was no way to stop his fall—only added weight of the rocks, and he gained momentum as he went down, down, down…

He was so dizzy, and he just wanted to stop. Stop, stop, stop—

"—keru? What happened? You were only in there for a few minutes. Hey, stop. Stop, stop, it's just me—"

Hands closed around wrists, and suddenly Takeru was suspended again, just like before. Suspended and looking into crimson eyes…

Takeru blinked dazedly, gazing upward, and the crimson turned into blue. For a blessed, peaceful moment, everything was crystal clear. His lungs drew in cleansing, detoxifying oxygen into every cell in his body, purifying it.

And then the moment was gone before he knew it, and tears dribbled over his cheeks as he stared into his brother's eyes.

"Takeru?" Yamato pressed.

"Too fast," he whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm moving too fast… it's not fair..."

"What?" Yamato's expression was a hazy mix between frightened and concerned. "Takeru, what's wrong? You're scaring me. Do you feel sick at all? There's a bench over there… c'mon. I got you. I got you..."

Takeru blinked again, and the world was blurry, this time with tears. He swallowed again with difficulty, trying to ignore the choking sensation in his throat. Like someone's hands were wrapped around his neck. Squeezing. Squeezing.

He wasn't sure how they reached the bench. He didn't remember walking there himself, but he was too out of it to notice if Yamato had carried him. It wasn't until his brother spoke again that he realized he was finally sitting down.

"What happened?" Yamato repeated.

"I don't want to move," he blurted. "I don't want to go to Kobe, Nii-san. Mom says it's only for six months but I don't want to go… it's… it's happening too fast…"

"Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute. Moving? Slow down—"

Takeru sniffled. "I'm trying."

"Takeru, look at me. Please."

Takeru did, and all of a sudden he felt really pathetic. He could have handled his mother's news a lot better than he did, and he definitely could've done it without the tears. And they were outside now, in the public eye, and he was struggling to control himself.

Find that moment again. C'mon. Get yourself together.

Takeru released a slow, shuddering breath. Wrapped his arms around himself in a hug, rubbing his skin, because even with the mid-July heat, he was still covered in goosebumps. He couldn't figure out why he was so cold in the middle of summer.

"Mom… is moving," he said, very slowly. "She said her boss wants her to transfer to monitor something and… and report on it. She's already accepted the task, and she said it'd be at least six months. What if it's more? I… I'm tired, Nii-san, I don't want to move anymore. I want to stay here…"

"So then stay with me."

Yamato said it so casually, so naturally, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. Takeru looked up at him in surprise, all webbed exhaustion and wide-eyed vulnerability. "...for real?"

"Yeah," Yamato said, leaning back against the bench. "I mean, I've got band practice some nights, but you're more than welcome to come to watch, or have someone over, like Hikari, if you get a little lonely. School doesn't start for a while, so we'd have time to get you moved in before—"

"You… you mean it?" Takeru interrupted, tears drying on his cheeks as he continued to stare at his brother in wonder. "I could really live at your place?"

"'Course you can, Teek." Then Yamato chuckled. "Well… you'd have to stay in my room, and it miiiiight be a bit cramped for a while, but—"

"I'd love to," Takeru said. "Really. I'd love to, Nii-san! Thank you so much."

His voice broke at the last part, and he swallowed back tears again, but these stemmed from relief and happiness. His world had fallen apart in a matter of seconds, but it felt as though he could stitch it back together again in the same amount of time.

It had been a long time since he'd lived with his older brother.

A thought hit Takeru, abruptly, but with enough force that the weight was almost physical. "...what if Mom and Dad won't let me?"

"We'll figure it out, kiddo." He slid an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry."

It was hard not to worry about it, but Takeru took another deep, refreshing breath and did his best. They sat quietly on the bench for a few minutes, and Takeru blinked away the remaining sensations of his crying spell, suddenly feeling very drowsy.

"Teek?"

"Hmm?"

"I told you not to walk on that foot," Yamato said. "Did… did you run from your apartment to outside, on your foot."

Takeru quieted for a moment, sheepish and hesitant. "Um. Maybe."

"Takeru."

"It doesn't hurt," Takeru persisted. "Really! I know it looks bad, but—"

Takeru reached down to pull down his sock so he could show his brother how well he could move his foot despite his wound, and even as his fingers brushed against his foot, he didn't feel any pain like he had in the digital world. He loosened his shoe just a bit to reveal—

—no bruise.

"...what in the world?" he whispered.

Yamato looked equally stunned at this new discovery. "You had a bruise in the digital world. I know you did. Jou looked at it—"

"...how strange," Takeru murmured. Then he looked back up at Yamato with a sheepish grin. "Well, I told you it didn't hurt."

Yamato didn't seem that amused at his attempt at humor. Looked more bewildered than anything, and eventually, his gaze slid from Takeru's foot up to his eyes. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Yamato looked ready to say something else, but his words were stolen as his ringtone sounded through the air. Takeru blinked as he reached into his pocket to answer it, and sighed.

"Who is it?" Takeru asked in a whisper.

Yamato didn't answer him, or maybe he'd spoken so quietly that he didn't hear him. Regardless, Yamato tapped on the screen and said into his phone, "Moshi moshi? ...yeah. Yeah, he's with me. He's still staying with me for the night, yeah. Mm, he told me. Alright. I'll let you know. Ok. Bye."

Takeru found an answer to his own question. He looked down at his lap, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously. "That was mom, huh?"

Another sigh. "Yeah."

"What're we gonna do?"

"Don't worry about it, 'k?"

It was the second time he'd said it, and for some reason, Takeru felt compelled to trust him. His brother, after all, had searched and searched for him in the digital world and had told him he wouldn't have given up until he found him. He… he could trust his brother. There were things his friends and his brother knew about him that his parents would never know, after all.

Takeru opened his mouth to respond, but this time, it was he who was interrupted—by the grumbling of his own stomach.

It was loud enough that Yamato had to have heard it, and he was proven right when Yamato chuckled. "I need to pick up some groceries for lunch since we're running low on some essentials. Think you can wait a tiny bit longer? I can get you a snack to hold you over."

Takeru's face bloomed with warmth, and he hoped he could play it off as a product of the mid-summer heat. Though the mere thought of his brother's cooking was enough to make his mouth water. "I'll be fine, Nii-san. Thank you."

"Good. So I'll get you a snack."

"Nii-san."

"Glad we had this talk," Yamato said with a tiny smirk. Then he stood and added with more sincerity, "And… it's really freaking weird, but I'm glad your foot's all better. We'll have to tell the others about it later and… and see what happened. Let me know if it starts hurting again, ok?"

Takeru smiled, too; although his was much brighter than Yamato's, like he hadn't been crying only five minutes prior. "Right."

He'd stopped falling, finally. Everything… everything would be alright. He just needed to trust his brother. Maybe he could catch up. Maybe he'd get everything under control. Things were finally slowing down.

At least… for now.

Takeru begged Yamato not to go home. At least, not to their mother's apartment.

Yamato had been a little surprised, at first, but after finding out that their mother planned to move to Kobe and take him along, he wasn't surprised. Facing their mother was the last thing he'd wanted to do; it was written all over his face.

So, three days after the news had been delivered, Yamato decided that he needed to meet with their parents to make a decision. Takeru, understandably, didn't want to participate—he was afraid of getting roped into something he didn't want to do, and he didn't want to cause a fight.

Hearing that was like being speared through the heart. In the end, he'd dropped Takeru off at Taichi and Hikari's place with the promise of returning once they finished their discussion. That way someone could keep an eye on Takeru, and he wouldn't be alone.

And after what happened in the digital world, and how Takeru reacted to their mother's decision… he didn't want to leave Takeru alone. Maybe he was being overdramatic, but he didn't want to risk it. What if something happened when he wasn't there?

The thought wasn't comforting, because he didn't exactly know the answer.

Yamato pushed it out of his mind so he could focus on the topic at hand: Takeru's living situation.

The air was practically bleeding tension. Yamato wondered why two grown adults still acted like this around each other even though the divorce was a decade ago, but then, he didn't exactly know what to say to his mother when she was around.

Except it was different now. He knew exactly what he was going to say to her, and he wasn't going to give in. Takeru, after all, wanted this badly, and he'd fight for him.

"Natsuko," his father said in lieu of a greeting, nodding shortly.

"Hiroaki," she responded, stepping inside tentatively. "Thank you for, um, for inviting me in."

His father only nodded again, closing the door behind her. Silence ensued, opening another path through which tension could travel, and slowly, awkwardly, the two of them made their way to the small table in their living room. They sat on opposite sides, with Yamato between them.

After about fifteen more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Yamato's brow twitched in annoyance.

"I want Takeru to live here," he said, with conviction. "With me and Dad. Permanently."

His mother's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at his father, rather than Yamato. "Did you know he was going to say that?"

"Um." His dad sighed and scratched the back of his mind. "He did, uh, mention that Takeru might need a place to stay, which is why I agreed to meet with you. I assumed it was temporary?"

His mom quieted, pursing her lips. "So then, they told you I was planning to move?"

"It might have come up, yes. Though I wasn't sure of the details."

"It'd only be for six months. Nine at the latest."

"Oh?"

"Then we'd come back to Odaiba. It's an assignment from my boss, so yes, I assumed it would be temporary."

His dad nodded slowly. "I see."

"But Takeru doesn't want to move," Yamato said, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly it was as if he wasn't in the room, and he didn't like it. "He wants to stay in Odaiba."

She sighed, rubbing her temple. "He did react a bit… intensely to the news. I wanted to talk it out with him completely, and get everything out on the table, but then…" She paused. "And I thought he might need some space to think about it, but he's been over here for three days. And I haven't had the time to get him a cell phone yet, so I kept calling and messaging you…"

"I know," Yamato said woodenly. "I got them."

"And you ignored them after that night."

She wasn't accusing him of it. She wasn't being rude about it. It was a simple statement, and it happened to be true.

"You were right in saying that Takeru needed space," Yamato went on. "I thought that by answering you, it would only make him upset. So I didn't answer."

"And you didn't think about calling me?" His father raised an eyebrow.

She quieted again. Yamato looked at him. "That was my doing."

He met Yamato's gaze quizzically. "Is that right?"

"Takeru needed space, like I said. So I gave him space, and I didn't want to get you involved until he calmed down a bit."

His dad nodded once more. Repeated, "I see."

"...why do you want him to stay permanently?" his mom prompted.

Yamato met her gaze evenly. "He asked me."

It was true. Over the last few days, something had been bugging Takeru, more than just the burden of the knowledge of his mother's transfer. He'd confronted Takeru this morning about it, and…

"I love Mom, really, I do. But it's… lonely there, Nii-san. Patamon's away, and Mom's always working, and I know Dad's always working, too, but… it'll be different, because you're here, too... I just… if I leave, I don't know if I'll want to go back."

For a moment, she looked undeniably, irrevocably destroyed. Like it was the last possible answer she expected to receive. Her eyes widened with shock, brimming with tears, and her lip quivered as if she was ready to cry.

Yamato's resolve wavered but didn't break. Eventually, she just sighed again and buried her head in her hands. They were trembling. But she didn't weep.

"Oh," she murmured. "Will… will you be able to afford it?"

The second part was probably directed toward his father, but Yamato spoke before he got the chance. "The band's been making decent money for a while. I can help."

"Yamato," his dad said, frowning sharply at him. "You're seventeen. You shouldn't have to help. That's our responsibility."

"He's my little brother," Yamato argued. "I have a responsibility to look after him, too."

"Yamato, look…" His mom began hesitantly. "...I know you've been protective of him since you were kids, but… really. You're still our child, and so is he."

"You don't think Takeru would have liked to join the conversation?" his dad added.

Yamato scowled. "He already told you he didn't want to move. He knew you'd only try to convince him, and he knows how much you guys fight. He didn't want to be around for that, so… he's at Taichi and Hikari's place."

"I wasn't going to guilt-trip him," she murmured, hands curling into fists. But she didn't respond to the other reason, and his dad didn't comment on it, either. "It… it does hurt me to see him so upset. But that's why I wanted to just talk to him, and see how we could make it work."

"Don't you see?" Yamato laughed, but the sound lacked any trace of humor. It was flat. Hollow. "This is making it work! You can go to Kobe, and he can stay here where he's happy."

She looked down at the table, forehead resting against her thumbs. She drew in a deep breath, and then: "...did he say that he wasn't happy? Living with me?"

Yamato fell silent, chewing the inside of his lip. He'd never used the word 'unhappy', but he knew it was written all over his face, woven intricately with aching loneliness, with the need to be around others.

It was a stark difference between them—while Yamato preferred to be alone, Takeru adored people, and he loved physical contact. Even now, when he had the opportunity to visit others during the day, an empty apartment awaited him when he arrived home. He loved spending time with his friends and family. That was something Yamato had picked up on long ago.

"You… you both work so much," he said carefully. "He rarely sees either of you and… and he's so lonely because of it. I mean, you've seen it, haven't you? He's… he's not like us. We don't really care for hugs and people and all that crap. But he craves affection and he thrives on it, and he's been starved of it! Don't you think it's time to give him what he needs?"

Both of them were stunned into silence. But Yamato wasn't done. So many things that Takeru had bottled up for a long time were finally breaking free, and with it came the things that Yamato hadn't known he'd bottled up until there wasn't enough space to contain it all.

Both of them were so close to reaching their breaking point, and finding out that their mother planned to move and separate them again was the last push they needed.

He was so full of repressed emotions that he couldn't breathe.

"And… and ok, I get it, Mom. I do. You don't cook, and a lot of the time you're not home to cook, so you don't have much time. But… but he's living on convenient snacks, and tv dinners, and instant stuff, and… and he needs more than that! You can't make him live like that just because you do."

"Yamato," his dad warned. "You shouldn't talk to your mother like that."

"I'm not saying you're not trying," Yamato went on, too frustrated to really pay attention to his father's reprimanding words. "I'm sorry if it's coming out rude. It's just… we have time to get him moved. It's not like he'll be stressed about school, right? And we're not…"

He clenched his fists on the table, so angry that his voice broke. His teeth slammed together, but it was going to come out whether he liked it or not. He lacked the capacity to store any more frustration for the sake of not causing a scene.

"I'm so tired of just living with your mistakes. We're not kids anymore, damn it," he hissed. "We were young enough back then that we didn't get much of a say in things. You guys got to make all the choices, and we just had to live with whatever they were. It was always 'do what Mom and Dad want us to do' and that's not fair. For once, can you involve your kids in your decisions? Don't we deserve that?"

In the wake of his outburst, his parents were left speechless and Yamato's heart was pounding. The force of his rage was enough to affect him physically, and though it took a long time to build up, it only took a few moments to leave.

It flowed out of him so quickly, so easily, and now there was finally enough room for air to get in and out. He could breathe again.

The same could not be said for his parents. They both looked as if they'd lost the ability to move and speak, let alone breathe. His mom was extremely pale, body tense, expression pulled taut with remorse and shock.

It was as if he'd slapped both of them across the face.

Then, suddenly, his mother started laughing. It was weak and croaky and empty—hardly considered laughter at all—and just as Yamato was getting ready to snap at her, she said, almost to herself, "We… really messed up, didn't we, Hiro?"

"...yeah. We did." A long, pregnant pause. "It's time we made it right, huh?"

"Yeah." She expelled a stuttering, scratchy breath and sniffled. Yamato saw a tear glisten underneath the light of the front room, but she was quick to wipe it away. "You're… sure this is what you boys want?"

A tiny ribbon of hope was wrapped carefully and skillfully around her words, near-undetectable, like she wanted Yamato to change his mind at the last minute. But Yamato's mind was already made up.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I'm sure."

Another silence. Another shaky sigh. "A-alright, then. We'll make it work. Won't we, Hiro?"

"Mm." He scratched his chin. "I… I think it'll be a little cramped, but… I could look into getting a bigger apartment."

"If… if you need any help," his mother offered, "let me know. Financially, I mean."

Yamato had already made his stance on the financial situation known, but his dad only nodded without acknowledging Yamato's previous offer.

That only brought forth another spark of annoyance in Yamato's veins, but he kept his mouth shut. He'd already delivered a critical blow with his words. He had to get out of here before he made things worse—before he said something that might make them change their minds.

"O...ok," he said breathlessly, pushing himself up without looking at either of them. "Ok. So it's settled, then."

"Yeah, hun," his mother said tiredly, rubbing her temple again. "It's settled."

"Good. I'm going back to Taichi's to get Takeru, then." He sped across the room to grab his keys and wallet, slipping on his shoes. But then: "...hey. Mom."

"...yes?"

"There's… there are some leftovers from last night in the fridge." He still didn't look at her. "Take them. All of them. You need some real food. You and Takeru both—you're too skinny. So don't forget to eat, and drink water. Get some rest."

He toyed with his keys, lingering in front of the door with his back facing her. He heard her breath catch with a near-silent sob.

"And… and don't forget to call him," he added. "He'll miss you. He always misses you. Once or twice a week. Call him, and let him know you haven't forgotten him. Because he will think that. So… at least once a week."

"O...ok," she whispered brokenly. "Once a week."

"And?"

"And let him know you haven't forgotten him."

"...and?"

"And don't forget to eat," she echoed, hiccuping. "And drink water, and… and rest…"

"Good." Still, he hesitated. "Don't drive until you're calm enough. You might get into an accident."

"O-k."

"Ok."

"I… I love you, hun. Be safe."

Yamato swallowed the knot in his throat. His reply was a soft, choked hum, and then he was out the door.

Half an hour ago, Hikari and Takeru had picked out a movie, but it was obvious neither of them were really paying much attention to it. Hikari had seen it before, and it was one she usually adored, but her mind was a pool of worry, and her thoughts were scattered about in the water. She couldn't reel her focus back in no matter how hard she tried.

"You look exhausted, Takeru."

She hit pause on the remote after she said the words, turning to face him. Her statement was true—Takeru's eyes were webbed and shadowed and heavy, and he looked ready to pass out on her couch.

Part of her expected him to deny it. Takeru had always been that way—he never wanted anyone to worry about him, even if his friends' concerns were justified. She knew this not only because he was her best friend, but also because… she did the exact same thing.

To her surprise, he just sighed with a humorless smile and rubbed his eyes. "Can't hide anything from you, huh?"

"Guess you can't," Hikari replied with a tiny smile of her own, but it dissolved quickly. "Do you want to talk about it? Is everything alright?"

Takeru didn't answer right away. She wondered—not for the first time—if he wasn't doing well because of something that had happened before she, Yamato, and Iori found him outside that forest. But if he had, wouldn't he have told her (or at least, Yamato) about it by now? It'd been days.

"Things are going to change," he said finally, softly.

Hikari blinked, trying to decipher what that meant, but his response was so vague and mysterious that it could have alluded to anything. Change because… of Mirrormon? Did he actually get to Takeru?

The thought made her heart sink into the well of her stomach. She parted her lips to ask what, exactly, would change, but he spoke first.

"Things at home are… weird."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah," Takeru echoed, looking at his lap. "I think my mom's upset with me."

"Because you're spending so much time with Yamato?"

"I… I think so."

Hikari wasn't sure what to say to that. She couldn't imagine why she would be upset that Yamato and Takeru were spending time together, but she didn't live inside Takeru's mother's head.

"I think it's great that you're spending time with him," she decided to say, smiling again. "I know you don't see him a lot."

He didn't look up. Didn't even react when she reached over to place her hand on his. His lips didn't even twitch.

"But there's… something else, isn't there?" Hikari persisted, squeezing his fingers gently.

Again, Takeru was silent. He sat as still as a doll, and it scared her. Takeru was usually so optimistic and radiant and alive—whether he knew it or not, he lit up the entire room with his smile. Now, he was the exact opposite. Like—

Then: "My mom is transferring outside of Odaiba. Outside of Tokyo. She's moving to Kobe."

Her head was already building a mental map, attempting to figure out where that was and how far away it was from the city they'd protected so many times in the past. She didn't make it that far before Takeru spoke again.

"She wants me to go with her."

Deeper. Deeper. It seemed the well of her stomach had become a bottomless chasm, and nothing existed below to slow the momentum of her plummeting heart. Her breath was trapped along with it, pulled down by her heart like a cement block weighing down a corpse.

"...are you?"

A long pause. Hikari waited patiently but in her mind, she was begging him to answer soon so she could breathe again.

"I don't know," Takeru said finally. "Nii-san… offered me a place to stay so I wouldn't have to go."

"Oh," she said, a traitorous thread of relief weaving through her. Down, down, down, to catch her breath. To catch her heart. "I see."

"Living with Nii-san is all I've ever wanted..."

She squeezed his fingers, silently offering comfort as his words stumbled again.

"It makes me feel like… like we're actually siblings again. But…" His body went rigid. "What if Mom is upset? If I choose Nii-san?"

"Why do you think she'll be upset?"

"Because then she'd be alone." His voice wobbled. "She'd have no one to look after her. Do you think it makes me a bad person for… for leaving her?"

Hikari pressed her cheek into his shoulder. "You're not leaving her, Takeru. I'm sure she'll understand."

"But I'm all she has. I feel like I'm abandoning her," Takeru went on. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to balance the weight of something heavy. Something unseen by Hikari. "At the same time… she didn't even ask me what I wanted to do. She just told me that we're moving, and she'd already accepted so she couldn't just back out of it.

"I don't really know much about the situation—what if she was under a lot of pressure to accept? What if she'd be punished if she said no? I don't know, and so it makes me feel selfish for fighting her decision. I just… I wish she didn't have to go because then I wouldn't have to pick a side like this."

Tears clouded Hikari's vision as she heard the anguish in Takeru's voice. Her hand tightened around hers, wishing she knew what to say. Wishing she could do something to help. But her parents weren't divorced—she didn't know what it was like to pick where she wanted to live. She didn't fully understand the burden of growing up in a broken home, and so…

"At the same time," Takeru continued abruptly, shoulders growing even tenser, "another part of me wants to stay here. Why should I care if she's alone when she's always leaving me alone? It's not fair. I know she works and I'm old enough to look after myself, but does she have to work all the time?"

His voice broke. That was what pushed Hikari into action—she shifted her weight, releasing his hand so she could embrace him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she could feel his body trembling. Still, he didn't cry.

But she was crying. She hated that her best friend was in pain. She always wanted to be there for him, and she wanted to make it better. But it was out of her control; there wasn't anything she could do, and it made her feel helpless.

Her throat constricted with a sob, and Takeru chuckled brokenly. "No, please don't cry, Hikari. You'll make me cry."

She didn't respond verbally because she didn't trust herself to speak. She knew Takeru was lonely—she could see it in his eyes the moment they met, could recognize it for what it was because she felt herself—but he rarely talked about it like this. It broke her heart to think that he'd kept it to himself all this time.

"I'm… I'm sorry things are this way," she choked out finally. "You… you know you can come see me anytime, right?"

Takeru relaxed in her embrace like a cat melting under the gentleness of affection. "I know, Hikari… thank you…"

"And I don't think you're a bad person for choosing to stay," she whispered into his shoulder. "You're a wonderful person. You deserve to put your happiness first. I know you love your mom, but… you've got to do what's best for you."

He was still shaking. "...you think so?"

"Yes. Do what you want to do, Takeru." She looked up at him with a watery smile, blinking away more tears. "And… and I'd miss you, if you left."

"I'd miss you, too. I'd… I'd miss everyone. I don't want to leave."

Something was wedged deep within those words. Something dark and isolated and haunting, like a shadow that clung to him everywhere he went. She wanted to chase it away and keep it away, but she couldn't push him to elaborate further when he'd already trusted her enough to share this burden with her.

Takeru took another deep breath, this one less shaky than before. Then he laughed a croaky, sheepish, but genuine laugh. "A-anyway… I'm sorry. I didn't expect all of that to come out."

She shook her head, pulling away to wipe her eyes. "No. I appreciate that you told me. It's better to get it off your chest than to let it crush you."

Their gazes met as the last of her tears tried up, red-brown peering into pools of blue, and…

And she saw a speck of red dancing in his iris. Hikari blinked and it was gone, but it was enough to make her frown.

Takeru blinked, too, now looking confused. "What?"

Had she imagined it? Maybe she had. Takeru did look extremely tired, so that had to be it. She mentally shook herself and smiled again at him. "It's nothing. You… you should get some rest. You look like you need it."

Takeru shrugged. "Nah. I'm not that tired. Besides, we were watching a movie."

"Well, I'll go get some blankets and we'll finish the movie," she decided, nodding for emphasis. "Or we can pick another one. I'll be right back."

"Hikari—"

"I'll be right back," she repeated, already standing.

Takeru laughed again, like he knew he couldn't argue. "...alright."

She made her way to the room she shared with her brother, and when she opened it, Taichi met her gaze immediately. He was sitting on the bottom bunk with a concerned expression.

"...is everything ok?" he asked quietly. "I heard you two talking."

Her smile faded somewhat, though it didn't fully disappear. She had a feeling, from the look on his face, that he'd overheard. Their walls were thin, after all. She was lucky their mom was out. "I… I think he'll be ok. He just needs a friend right now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed. "Now scooch. I'm going to borrow your blanket."

"Why mine?"

"Because I only have one and I need two!"

"Fine, fine," Taichi relented. "Should I go out there and be a friend, too? He might need a bear hug."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she snagged his blanket up. "I'm not sure. I think he's done talking about it, for now. We're just going to relax now. But I said I'd be back, so…"

Taichi laughed as she struggled to pull her blanket down from the top bunk, and she made a point of ignoring him. She was, after all, rather petite and these blankets were thick.

"Need help?"

"Nope!"

She yanked hard and clumsily darted out of the room before he could laugh again, and Takeru looked up.

"Don't you laugh, too," she warned, with no real heat in her words.

"Hey now. I'm not that tall, either, in case you haven't noticed."

"Don't complain. You're taller than me."

She stumbled into the sofa, and they both chuckled as that sent one of the blankets toppling onto Takeru. She decided impulsively to pick another movie, and five minutes later, they were in front of the tv again, bundled up like it was winter, with the only light being the kitchen from behind.

Thirty minutes after that, something soft bumped her shoulder.

Hikari blinked, craning her neck to see Takeru, eyes closed, leaning heavily into her side. His breath fanned her skin, soft and slow. A faint smile pulled at her lips. Definitely asleep.

"And you said you weren't tired," she whispered teasingly, fondly. "You'll hurt your back sleeping like that."

Carefully, soundlessly, she coaxed his body down so his head was pillowed on her lap, shifting ever so slightly and turning her attention back toward the screen. Lowered the volume of the tv so it wouldn't disturb him.

Peaceful dreams, Takeru, she thought. I hope you feel less heavy now.

A door creaked open. Taichi stepped out, looking ready to say something until he saw that Takeru had fallen asleep.

"Yamato's on his way back," he murmured. And then: "Dang. He must've been beat."

Hikari nodded. "Yeah. It's hard to sleep when your mind's racing so much."

She hoped, now that Takeru had a chance to talk out his feelings, that sleep would come easier for him. She hoped he'd be alright. That this quick rest would heal the damage caused to him by indecision and anxiety.

"I guess that's true," Taichi said after a moment's pause. Slowly, he walked to the far end of the sofa and fixed the blanket so Takeru's feet were covered. When he came back to her side, his head came down on her head to ruffle her hair. "You're good to him."

She smiled down at Takeru's peaceful expression. "I do my best."

"I'm sure he appreciates it."

She thought back to the mysterious shadows clinging to Takeru's words. To the heartbreaking way his voice faltered as he confided in her. To the fleeting speck of red his eyes that she'd swore she imagined.

"Yeah," she breathed out, moving a stray hair away from Takeru's eyes. "He's such a gentle spirit. I didn't realize until today… that he could be angry about a lot of things. He could have turned out to be a different person. He could have been cold, pessimistic, or filled with hate. But… he's not. He's the kindest person I know."

"He is that way, huh?"

"Yeah." Hikari expelled a slow, unhurried breath. "He is."

She'd heard in the past that those who suffer the most are the ones who smile brightest, the ones whose souls radiate the most warmth. Looking at Takeru now, she believed it to be true.

Please don't ever change, she added mentally. Whatever you do, Takeru… just don't change.

Ch 06 || Eruption

It seemed as though Takeru didn't remember much about the previous night.

Part of Yamato expected this. He'd been so out of it when he'd finally woke up from his night terror that it should have been no surprise. Or… or maybe Takeru did remember it, but he just wasn't saying anything. Maybe he was embarrassed by the episode. That could explain why he was acting as if the events of last night didn't happen at all.

But… but Takeru's eyes had been wide open, and the way he screamed and called for Yamato, violently yanking him from slumber, made it seem like he'd been awake and alert. The primal terror in Takeru's eyes, when Yamato stopped him from running right out the (thankfully locked) door, was so deep. Like a wound that would leave behind a nasty scar when it healed.

And Takeru fell asleep so fast. The haunting sound of his cries kept Yamato awake for the rest of the night. Usually, it was the other way around—the fact that Takeru had woken it up around one in the morning proved it.

Yamato had finally dozed off around seven in the morning but had to get up two hours later to prepare for Koushiro's stupid meeting. He supposed it was beneficial—as Takeru pointed out the night before—but given his sleep cycle had been interrupted, going to a meeting only made him grumpy.

Takeru laughed musically as Yamato poured himself a cup of coffee. "Nii-san. Your hair is sticking up."

"Hush."

How could he laugh like that when he'd been so horrified last night? Yamato tried his best to be nonchalant around Takeru, to act normal, even though things had deviated far past normal and had hit the borders of what he knew was strange.

"Do we have any juice left?" Takeru was still smiling as he spoke, though his eyes were hesitant.

"Yeah, in the fridge."

"Can I have some?"

"You don't have to ask, kiddo. You're welcome to anything."

It was something they were working on. Takeru asked permission for almost anything—to watch tv, to shower. Sometimes he still knocked on their bedroom door before entering. Yamato could understand this, but he wished he knew what to do to make him feel more at home.

"O...ok," Takeru said, his smile widening a bit. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. One-hundred percent."

He walked to the fridge and opened it, and Yamato busied himself with the menial task of cleaning the coffee maker since he'd been the one to empty it. Still, even though his hands were occupied, his body moved on autopilot while he succumbed to his thoughts.

Takeru kept the conversation going, mostly. He spoke lightly and happily. Yamato chimed in here and there, but he couldn't really remember if his responses were as cheerful as Takeru's. His head refused to wrap around the fact that Takeru could act so carefree.

And Yamato wasn't the only one that couldn't slow back into a normal routine after last night. He definitely noticed the way his father eyed Takeru worriedly the entire time they were in the kitchen. He knew exactly what that kind of look meant: they'd be talking about it later, when Takeru wasn't around.

Yamato hated the idea of gossiping about his little brother. He didn't like talking about him behind his back; it felt like keeping secrets from him. It felt like lying to him, and Yamato was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar.

Except… this was the kind of thing they couldn't really talk about with Takeru here, especially because he was acting as if everything was normal.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

Yamato put the coffee pot in the dish tray to dry as the words fluttered through his brain like an unwanted pest. He'd looked so hurt by the accusation. Like it physically pained him to think that he'd lie to his own brother. It made Yamato feel like a jerk—which, ok, he didn't really care what other people thought of him. Cold? Pssh. An asshole? Who cared. He wasn't put on this Earth to make everyone happy.

Despite the indifferent vibe he so often gave off, however, he did care about his image when it came to a select number of people. Takeru was one of those people.

And Takeru… Takeru thinking him as a jerk was another story. Yamato had a duty to protect his family and friends, and he didn't want the person he was supposed to protect to see him as someone cruel.

It only cemented his decision not to push Takeru into talking about it, because Takeru wouldn't lie to him. This thought led him to another possible conclusion.

He didn't remember.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Yamato had read somewhere that it was more likely in adults to remember sleepwalking than in children. It was uncommon to remember night terrors, either, and… and maybe that was all it was. A night terror.

No matter how loud he screamed, or how afraid and desperate he sounded when he called out for Yamato, he… he wasn't in any danger. It was all a dream—a dream powerful enough to coax him out of bed like it was real.

He was brushing his teeth now. Yamato didn't really remember when he decided to do so—just that suddenly he was in front of the sink, spitting and rinsing. Everything was hazy, even after he moved on to his next task to prepare for the day.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything.

It could have been a fluke. Stress, sometimes, could trigger episodes of sleepwalking. It could also lead to sleep deprivation, which was another possible trigger. Even if Takeru was only moving in with him and their father, a move was still stressful. Not to mention… Mirrormon.

He said he was being chased in a forest, Yamato thought, frowning deeply. But… by what?

The outskirts of a forest, after all, was where they had found him. It could have been Takeru's overactive imagination, coupled with other factors, that contributed to the events of last night. He wanted badly to settle on this explanation, but… but as much as he hated thinking about it, he didn't grow up in the same house as Takeru did.

He didn't know for certain if sleepwalking was a normal thing for Takeru. Sure, he'd had episodes as a child—the last one being at age eight or nine—but he only really knew about it if Takeru had been staying with him when it happened.

He did know, however, that Takeru was susceptible to insomnia and nightmares. Even in the digital world, Takeru had had his fair share of them while Yamato was around. He did hear from his mother if the nightmares got bad enough to warrant a conversation about them, and though he didn't know just how often these disturbances occurred, it was easy to tell by looking at him if he hadn't slept well.

But… Yamato hadn't really noticed a difference over the last few months until they found out about Kobe. Takeru hadn't looked especially tired the way he did now.

I should have paid more attention when we were younger. A bitter feeling coiled around his stomach as the thought crossed his mind. I should have been paying more attention in general. Then I wouldn't be playing guessing games.

The bitterness expanded. Snaked up his ribcage, into his lungs and heart. Coiled around his bones and organs and squeezed. Squeezed and squeezed until he felt like his insides would burst into a volcanic mess of bone shards and ruptured organs. His teeth slammed together. Because underneath the self-loathing, he knew he wasn't the only one to blame.

Would she even tell me if he'd been sleepwalking recently? Would she notice? Did Takeru ever do anything to wake her up, like he did to me?

He pulled on a fresh shirt vigorously. Bitter, bitter, bitter. He'd spent so much of his life being bitter toward his parents for their choices, and it led to a strain in their relationship with him. And even now, when he'd gone off on them, he couldn't stop the rage from seeping through.

An image of his mother shaking, desperately suppressing sobs as he walked away from her, crossed his mind and the bitterness quelled. He knew even his father was remorseful, and that told him that they were at least aware of what they'd done.

They were just people. It was something he had to remind himself of a lot—that his parents were only human, and humans made mistakes. They weren't perfect, and he didn't really expect them to be. He did wish, no matter how unfair it was to them, that they would have noticed their mistakes and the consequences following them earlier than a few days ago.

Maybe… maybe things would be better, then. Or at least… Yamato would have some answers. He was old enough to decide where he wanted to stay, and so was Takeru.

What if it's been happening all along and I never knew?

He made a mental note to text his mother about it later.

"—san."

"Hmm?"

He'd just exited their room a few minutes ago. Takeru looked at Yamato, and then their father, and then Yamato again. "I said, if we don't get going soon, we'll be late…" He trailed off, eyes brimmed with concern. "Are you ok?"

They were pretty much set to go. Yamato glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye. His father took a sip of his coffee casually, but it was obvious by the look in his eyes that he'd caught it.

And Takeru had, as well.

"What's wrong?" He shuffled on his feet, expression crumbling slightly. "Are… are you… having second thoughts?"

He sounded so vulnerable, so absolutely crushed, all of a sudden, and Yamato's brain plummeted from the sky back into his skull that instant. Everything swirling in his brain went still, suspended like stars in the sky, and all of his attention went to the devastated boy mere feet away from him.

"About what?"

"About… about me?" He didn't speak any louder than a whisper. "You're… you're both acting like something's wrong. You've been doing it all morning. Did you… change your minds? I can… I can go with Mom if—"

"Takeru. No. We didn't change our minds, and we won't change our minds," Yamato said firmly, finally catching on. "Ok? Everything's fine. I swear."

Lie number one. Everything was not fine.

Yamato inwardly winced. It came out so easily, practically on instinct, just to soothe the heartbreak laced in his brother's eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was be dishonest with Takeru, but he also didn't want Takeru to feel as if he was unwelcome in their home.

"We want you here," he said, if only to fix the lie before it was too late. "Ok? Right, Dad?"

His dad took another sip of his coffee and nodded with a hum. While he'd never been the type of person who was open with his feelings—something Yamato realized he inherited—at least he'd responded somewhat quickly enough to not make Takeru uncertain of his sincerity.

Takeru relaxed visibly, lips twitching in an almost-smile before he hesitated. "O...ok. Then… what is it?"

"I was just getting ready to ask if you two needed a ride," their father said. "So you won't be late."

Yamato looked at the clock, and then at his brother. If they left right now and started walking, they'd make it in time. If they left by car, they'd be early, and Yamato wasn't sure if he wanted to spend any more time inside his head.

"It's up to you, Teek."

"I… I don't mind the walk," Takeru said, finally starting to smile.

His dad's brows quirked upwards. "You sure? It might get pretty hot out soon."

Takeru nodded. "If Nii-san's ok with it, I'd like to walk. Last… last time I rode in the van… I felt a little sick afterward."

"It's whatever you want, kiddo." He paused, suspicious of Takeru's words but choosing, instead, to bring it up another time. "Maybe we can pick something to eat up along the way?"

They still hadn't eaten breakfast. It was nearing ten, and he'd been so absorbed by his thoughts that he hadn't realized the time.

"If you want," Takeru said. "I'm not that hungry, though. At least not yet."

The same was true for Yamato. Lack of sleep made him feel unwell, and the volcano of concern and confusion wasn't really doing him any favors.

"Well… let me know when you do get hungry, ok?" he said with a sigh. "If anything, we'll get something on the way back."

Takeru's smile expanded a fraction. Expanded in a way that was different than the cold, painful bitterness in Yamato's body and mind. Expanded like soft sunbeams, bleeding light and warmth into the world as the sun began its ascent into the sky.

Sunbeams that had the power to put the bitterness at bay.

"Alright," Takeru said finally. "Bye, Dad."

Yamato, too, nodded a brief farewell. "Later."

"Bye, boys," he said. And then: "Oh. Don't forget water."

"I was planning on stopping by the vending machine across the street."

"Ah, I see. Good." Another awkward pause. "Takeru?"

Yamato tensed a little. Takeru looked back curiously at their dad. "Yeah?"

"Yamato and I decided—"

Don't you dare bring it up.

"—that it's time to get you a cellphone. Your brother's not always going to be with you, and… and we'll need a way to contact you." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "So we know… that you're safe."

The tension in Yamato's muscles eased somewhat, though he was certain, after last night, that he wasn't going to let Takeru out of his sight. Who knew where Takeru would have ended up—or what he would've done to himself—had he been alone?

Takeru's eyes popped wide and his sunny smile became a grin full of excitement. "For real?"

He did remember talking to his father about it a few days ago. When Takeru's head snapped toward him as if for confirmation, Yamato nodded. That smile was infectious.

"Yeah," he said, reaching forward to ruffle Takeru's hair. "And with your d-terminal missing… we kind of need a way to contact you, huh?"

Something shifted in Takeru's expression. His smile faltered and when he blinked, a tiny thread of crimson swirled in his eyes. Yamato blinked, too, and he didn't see anything—Takeru was back to grinning like a child who was just told he could have sweets before supper.

"You're… you're sure it won't be too much?"

"Nah," Yamato said, because even if it was, he'd make it work. "We'll probably get it tomorrow. Or… or tonight, if you want."

"Wow! That's so cool! I can't wait!" Then he turned on his heel, practically shoving his feet into his shoes. "A phone. A phone! A phone, a phone, a phone, a phone~ C'mon, Nii-san! We're gonna be late!"

And then he took off running, fueled with an infinite amount of energy from an unknown source, and he looked so undeniably happy that it kept his thoughts from drifting. Kept the bitterness from erupting. They remained suspended and Yamato was left to chase after Takeru before he lost sight of him.

"So… you get motion sickness, now?"

He'd told himself he wouldn't question it, but Yamato couldn't really help it. Suddenly it felt like Takeru was this mysterious stranger, like he hadn't known him the way he thought he did. He didn't like that feeling.

They were ascending the stairs to Koushiro's apartment. Takeru paused to look at him. "What?"

"You told Dad the van made you sick," Yamato explained.

"Oh." A pause. Takeru scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Yeah, I… I don't know why it happened, but it did. I didn't get sick from car rides before."

A part of Yamato was relieved to hear that. So it wasn't that Yamato just hadn't been paying attention—this was new to both of them.

That could mean his sleepwalking was new, too, right? Or… or maybe it was just a one-time thing?

"Oh," Yamato said. "But it was bad enough to make you choose walking over driving? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I felt better as soon as we were back home," Takeru said quickly. "It didn't seem like a big deal… I'm sorry to make you walk in the heat."

"Nah. I need the exercise."

Takeru chuckled. "You don't think being a Chosen Child is enough?"

"Maybe that's why I need the exercise," Yamato said with a shrug. "You never know when something's gonna chase us down."

"Being chased."

Yamato shivered inwardly. Takeru, however, just rolled his eyes and laughed a bit. "You make a good point. Can you let Koushiro know we're here?"

"Mm."

He fished his phone out to send a text, only to blink when he noticed that he had already received one, about ten minutes ago. He hadn't even heard his phone chime.

"Taichi says people are cranky because they're hungry," Yamato told his brother. "You feeling up to eating now?"

They were nearly at Koushiro's doorstep. Yamato's fingers were still hovering over the keypad while he waited for Takeru's answer, but just as Takeru started to say something, the door swung open.

"Oh, thank god you're here," Mimi said. "We're going to get take-out before the meeting. Wanna tag along?"

"Not really," Yamato droned, right as Takeru chirped, "Sure!"

"Well, that's fine, Yamato," Mimi said. "I'll happily take Takeru with me in your place!"

"Hey, hey, wait," Yamato snapped, reaching for Mimi's wrist before she could grab Takeru's. "It's too hot."

"Nii-san, it's fine," Takeru said. "I like to walk."

"We walked all the way here. Aren't you a little tired?"

"No?" Takeru laughed again. "C'mon, I wanna see where they're going. Please?"

"Please?" Mimi echoed.

"Please?" came another set of voices from in the doorway. Hikari was wedged between Miyako and Daisuke. All three of them were looking at Yamato with pleading eyes.

Taichi squeezed his way through. "Ok, you've got people crowding around you like kittens and Koushiro says you're letting out the cool air."

Yamato sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're not thirsty or anything?"

"Nii-san. I drank like, forty ounces of water. I'll be fine."

He knew if he was too protective of Takeru, it would rob him of his chance at being a normal teen—whatever 'normal' meant, anyway. And even he knew, ever since he was a kid, that sometimes he took it a little too far.

But… but with everything going on, who could blame him? Takeru had gotten separated from them in an enormous, dangerous world; found out his mother was moving to another part of Japan; and then… last night…

"Nii-san, for real, everything's going to be fine," Takeru reassured. "Really."

"Besides," Mimi added, "it's only a few blocks away, so we'd be back in, say, half an hour? It's that place we ordered from a few months ago. You know, the one with the cute red sign?"

Yamato wasn't really paying attention. He looked into his brother's eyes and all he could see was the haunting, incomprehensible expression that painted Takeru's face in the early hours of the morning while the rest of the city slept peacefully.

"You should probably eat…" Yamato said, debating. He'd meant it when he said to his mother that she and Takeru were too skinny.

"And you should, too," Takeru said teasingly.

Yamato sighed. He wasn't going to get out of this one, and none of them knew why he was being hesitant. If he said no, he'd just look like a bad guy.

"Fine," he relented, digging into his pocket for his wallet to pull out some yen. He wasn't exactly certain of the place Mimi was talking about, but he was sure it couldn't be too pricey if they were ordering for twelve. "Here. Though I don't know if you've already ordered..."

Once again, he didn't really pay attention to Mimi's reply. They were gone in a matter of minutes. Most of the younger kids accompanied Mimi, and part of Yamato wished that someone like Sora or even Taichi went with them instead. It wasn't that Mimi was irresponsible, but…

To be held accountable for six other kids… what if Takeru got left out? They'd already lost track of him once…

But then… Mimi was lively and bubbly. Her positive energy was probably exactly what Takeru needed after such a stressful week.

Yamato was scowling as he walked into Koushiro's room. It was pleasantly cool in his apartment, but the only person who could probably put him in a good mood was now gone. And he was back to where he was when the day started—tired, grumpy, and really wanting to wring a certain Izumi Koushiro's neck for scheduling a stupid meeting on a day when he desperately needed to stay home.

The eruption that Takeru's sunny smile had controlled was going to come back, he just knew it.

"Don't you look happy," Taichi said with a smirk, but it was gone in moments. "Actually, dude, now that we're in better lighting… you look like you need a serious nap."

"I'd love a serious nap," Yamato said bitterly. "But someone decided that we should prioritize other things."

"Ah." Koushiro swallowed nervously. "Yeah… about that…"

"Yamato," Sora chided as he trailed off. "We're just going over some things. Koushiro says it shouldn't take too long." And then: "But Taichi's right. You look exhausted."

"Is something wrong with Takeru?" Taichi prompted.

It was like he already knew. Yamato sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor. "You could tell, couldn't you?"

"Dude. I know you." Taichi plopped down on Koushiro's bed like it was his own. "You're overprotective, sure, but you don't get this bad unless something's seriously wrong."

"Like you're any better."

"Takes one to know one, yeah?"

Yamato quieted. He was faced with the same dilemma as before—he felt like he was talking behind Takeru's back, and their parents did enough of that when they were kids. But…

"Someone was talking to me."

"Being chased…"

He'd been pretty much asleep when he said that. Somehow, those words carried so much weight, and yet none at all. It could have been a coincidence, or…

Don't go there.

Yamato knew it was dangerous to think about. His thoughts, after all, had got him into a bit of trouble this morning, and this was the one thing he refused to accept or even acknowledge.

"Yamato?" Sora persisted. "You… maybe you should drink some water? You're… well, usually, in this heat, you'd be flushed, but you're a little pale…"

Yamato dared to glance up. All four of them—even Koushiro, who had turned away from his computer to look at him curiously—were awaiting some kind of response, and he knew none of them were stupid. They'd all known each other for the better part of six years.

"I… I think…"

It's not that. It's just a coincidence. It's gotta be.

"Yeah?" Jou said.

Finally, and against his better judgment, Yamato said, "I think I have a clue about Mirrormon."

"What?" Koushiro's eyes blew wide. "Why didn't you say anything before? You could have emailed me—"

"But it's probably nothing," Yamato said, effectively silencing Koushiro with an icy glare.

The bitterness was pulsing through him again. Solidifying into ropes that wrapped around every muscle, every vein, every organ, every bone. It was so cold, and yet so hot. Hot enough to melt through anything. The force was enough to threaten eruption again.

A deep, slow breath. "I didn't really want to bring Takeru into it, so… so I wasn't going to say anything, but I guess they left…"

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or upset because of it. Relieved, because maybe if he voiced these thoughts, they would no longer haunt him; and upset, because he always seemed to assume the worst, and he wanted to save himself from the grief this time.

"Why… do you think Takeru's involved?" Jou asked.

"He looked a little tired, too," Taichi said.

"Yeah," Yamato muttered. "He didn't sleep well."

"Because of the move?"

It was no surprise that a few of them looked at Yamato in confusion. The word about Takeru moving in with him hadn't quite reached all of them—it was Takeru's story more than his, and it felt unfair to tell everyone when Takeru wasn't even here. It was kind of a sore subject, anyway.

Rather than answer Taichi's question, Yamato expelled a heavy breath. And despite the fact that talking about the night's events was not something he wanted to do, he supposed he didn't have a choice now. They were worried, and he couldn't exactly keep it to himself forever.

Not with a monster potentially on the loose.

So everything came out. Slowly at first, like water leaking through the failing crevices of a dam; and then rapidly and forcefully as the dam burst, and all the anxieties and what ifs that had been swirling in his head finally had a place to go.

The way they found Takeru after searching for hours. His somewhat strange behavior. The insomnia. The sleepwalking.

At least it was out of his head. Maybe it'd be enough to save his body from the inevitable damage that came with the looming threat of an eruption.

But then, he wasn't sure if he could handle a flood and volcanic emotions.

"...the last time I was around while he sleepwalked was when he was a kid. I don't even know if it's right to say it's weird when, for all I know, it could be normal."

"I see your dilemma," Koushiro said. "It's hard to make an accurate assessment without all the necessary details."

Somewhere, in the back of Yamato's mind, he knew that Koushiro didn't mean it to come out so flippantly. It was just the way his brain worked. But the exhausted, too-worried part of his mind was all Yamato could focus on, and so he pinned Koushiro with another glare.

"You say that like he's some puzzle." His eyes narrowed. "He's not a damn—"

"But… it is a mystery, isn't it?" Jou said. "Whether or not this is normal behavior for him, I mean."

Boiling. Bubbling. Yamato expelled another slow breath. "Yeah. I should know, because I'm his brother, damn it."

"Yamato, you should be more gentle with yourself," Sora said. "It isn't your fault."

Sweeping. Consuming. Bitter, bitter, bitter. Maybe it wasn't his fault. But the blame fell on somebody and it was easier to place it on himself than the people whom he knew were mostly responsible.

"She's right," Taichi said. "I get it, you're worried about him. I don't blame you at all. But you can't… you can't change anything about how you two grew up."

"You could observe his behavior from here on out, and see if it happens again," Jou suggested passively. "If… if it happens again, well…"

Yamato's fists clenched. The thought of waking up to Takeru's blood-curdling screams again made him incredibly uneasy.

"What… what else happened while he was sleepwalking that led you into thinking his behavior is linked to Mirrormon?" Koushiro prodded.

Right. He hadn't exactly gone into detail. Hadn't wanted to. He'd mentioned Takeru shouting in his sleep, but he hadn't talked about what he'd said upon snapping out of it.

Recalling Takeru's sleepy words as he finally acknowledged Yamato's presence made still. A shiver went down his spine like lava flowing freely and destructively. Sizzling. Melting. His skin burned and burned.

"He… he said something was chasing him, in a forest," he answered, looking down. His fists remained clenched so they wouldn't see him shaking. "That's where we found him the other day, like I said earlier. He could have still been asleep and saying weird things, but… he was calling for me. He kept shouting, 'Gotta find Nii-san!' and he was running through the apartment like he was trying to get away from something. If the door hadn't been locked, he would have made it to the street or something.

"And… and when he finally stopped screaming and fighting me… when he finally realized who I was, he said something was talking to him. He also said before, when we found him, that he hadn't run into anyone in the forest, but I just… I have this feeling."

Everyone around him was silent, hanging on Yamato's words like they couldn't quite decipher them. Yamato didn't blame them. But he… he had to keep going.

"I know my brother. A lot of the nightmares he has… they're like, connected to the digital world. All life-threatening events. He was so only seven when we got dragged there, and… and it really shaped him into who he is now."

Another pause. Yamato rested his chin on his knees and scowled at the floor like it could open up and spit out the answers he so desperately wanted.

"So, I… I just have this feeling," he repeated, coming to a conclusion now. "Like something happened back then, before we found him. But I know he wouldn't lie to me—not intentionally, anyway. But… I can't stop thinking about it."

Yamato's heart was racing in the wake of his confession. He'd never wanted to be wrong about something more than he did now. Being suspicious of his own brother's word made him feel horrible—Takeru, after all, had spent a lot of time by himself, and he knew that he adored the company of others. It was evident in his actions and his body language that he valued the opinions of his friends.

So… so to accuse him of being dishonest… he knew Takeru would take it to heart.

"And… you think the person he was referring to is Mirromon?" Jou said finally. "The one… chasing him?"

"He was the only one wreaking havoc at the time," Yamato said, still not looking at them. "You saw how frightened the other digimon were when he was around, so it's not like they'd get in his way. Who else would it be?"

"That's true," Taichi chimed in. "But wouldn't he say so if he ran into Mirrormon?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Poor thing," Sora murmured. "I hope… that you both sleep better tonight. It's awful that his sleep has been affected by the digital world for so long. I… I had no idea."

It wasn't something Takeru talked about regularly, and as a result, Yamato didn't bring it up, either—not unless he had to. He'd known about it for a while, and though he couldn't exactly stop the nightmares from occurring, Takeru lived with him now. He could, at the very least, offer Takeru comfort and the reassurance of his safety outside of his dreams.

"...Hikari did mention that he hadn't been sleeping well," Taichi said after a time.

Yamato's head snapped up. "He told her? Did he say anything else?"

It stung a little that Takeru hadn't spoken to him about it; he'd only known about the insomnia because of the tossing and turning at night. Because of the red-webbed eyes and the way he seemed eaten alive by his thoughts.

Funny. The same thing's happening to you.

Taichi started to say something, but before he could answer properly, the doorbell chimed. A buzzing sound echoed through the room. Somebody's phone.

"It's Mimi asking if it's ok to come in," Sora told them.

"They're welcome to," Koushiro said. "It's unlocked."

"Or do they need help carrying stuff in?" Jou asked, starting to stand.

Sora was still texting. Then she locked her phone, and after a few moments, Mimi sang, "We're here~"

"It's a good thing your parents went out, huh?" Taichi said, laughing dryly. "Mimi's loud when she wants to be."

Yamato didn't really pay attention to what Koushiro said in response. His heart was still pounding. His blood had rapidly cooled into molten rock at the thought of Takeru arriving back safely, but the damage had been done. He wasn't sure if he'd be the same.

Takeru, though, was one of the first ones inside, and his free-spirited grin made Yamato immediately think otherwise.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, like the conversation with the other kids hadn't happened. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Takeru quipped breathlessly. "Though all that water's starting to catch up with me. Can I use your bathroom?"

The question had been directed toward Koushiro, who nodded. "Of course. It's down the hall, on the left."

"Great! Thanks! Oh, here are the chopsticks. Miyako and Daisuke and the others have your food," he called as he disappeared into the hallway.

Taichi chuckled as Jou struggled to catch the chopsticks Takeru had hastily tossed at him. "Uh-oh."

"What do you mean by 'uh-oh'?" came Miyako's voice.

"Taichi-senpaiiiii," Daisuke whined. "You don't trust us with your food?"

"Hikari, I love you, girl, but I think your brother's gonna get a nasty kick to the—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Taichi said, still laughing as they all came crowding in Koushiro's room. "I was talking to Jou—he was going to drop the chopsticks!"

"Uh-huh," Mimi said with a smirk. "Sure you were."

They were all chatting so easily, so naturally. They laughed and giggled and bickered like this wasn't a meeting about the whereabouts of a cruel monster at all, but rather a long-awaited reunion.

And even when Takeru joined them again, smiling and laughing just like the rest of them, Yamato's mind raced. The bubbly, effervescent atmosphere felt wrong. Everything felt horribly, unchangeably wrong.

And Yamato had no idea how to make it right.

Ch 07 || A Puppet's Dance

The meeting, like Koushiro promised, hadn't taken long. In the end, there hadn't been much to discuss, but Koushiro did say he wanted to schedule a time where they could search the digital world for clues on Mirrormon's mysterious absence.

It was obvious the moment Koushiro had said it that Yamato was not happy. Taichi could tell by the way his body stiffened and by the icy daggers he shot at Koushiro. By the way he tapped his foot impatiently on Koushiro's floor, growing faster and faster by the second.

A tiny part of Taichi was amused—he, too, was an older brother whom most would deem 'overprotective'—but after what he'd said to them before the other had arrived with food, Taichi didn't really blame him.

A fleeting look at Hikari out of the corner of his eye only made him sympathize with Yamato. If Hikari had a similar episode as the one Yamato described…

He really didn't blame Yamato for not wanting to go back to the digital world. They'd already lost Takeru once and it had taken hours to find him.

At least it hadn't taken days…

The digital world, after all, was massive in its entirety and it could be brutal. It was a world made for monsters, not humans. They'd been separated countless times as children, and the process of finding each other could stretch out from days to months.

"The digimon are already patrolling," Yamato deadpanned, finally voicing his disapproval with Koushiro's plans. "What difference does it make if we go?"

"I just think it's a good idea to look around the areas Mirrormon lingered the most," Koushiro said. "And… when he noticed us, he took quite a bit of interest in us. He seemed quite intrigued by the existence of human beings. I'm thinking… perhaps our presence might coax him out of hiding."

Yamato's brow twitched. "So we're going to be bait?"

"Wh-what? No, that's not what I'm saying—"

"That's exactly what you're saying."

"Hey, hey, hey," Taichi cut in. "I don't think—"

"That's dangerous, Koushiro," Yamato went on as if Taichi hadn't spoken at all. "Remember last time? He overpowered us so easily and he was able to separate us. What if he shows up again and someone gets hurt, huh?"

"He makes a valid point," Jou said.

"I… I agree. Sorry," Iori added with an apologetic smile.

"I mean, we can't really deal with him if he's just waiting for us to show our faces again," Miyako pointed out.

"Yeah," Daisuke said. "All we're doing is just waiting around. What if this dude is around when school starts up again? It makes sense to get it done and over with as soon as we can, right?"

"But are we ready to face him again?" Hikari fretted.

"Mirrormon did cause quite a bit of damage, though," Mimi said. "I know the digimon said it would be best for them to take care of it while they patrolled to keep us safe, but… it still makes me feel horrible for putting all of that on their shoulders."

"It would be a little difficult to balance schoolwork and dealing with a malevolent force in the digital world," Ken said thoughtfully. "Assuming this drags out until then."

"Another valid point," Jou said with a nod.

Taichi shot him his best you-are-not-helping-at-all look. "Hey. Guys, arguing and all the 'what-ifs' are only going to make everyone more upset. How about we set up a time to do a patrol—"

He could feel Yamato's eyes carving holes into his head as he spoke.

"—with a time and place to regroup, and if nothing happens by then, we'll just meet up and go home. If something does happen, send a message and we'll try to get to you as soon as possible, but our best bet by then is to retreat."

"Takeru's d-terminal is missing," Yamato said.

"Yeah, I know—"

"But that's my fault. I should have been paying attention," Takeru said, looking down at the floor almost in shame. "I can just… stick close to someone, right?"

"I was going to suggest going in groups, yes," Koushiro said. "It would be the most effective method."

"I think so, too," Taichi said. "No one would be alone, but we'll be able to cover more ground. Sound good? Everyone ok with this?"

The response wasn't immediate, which Taichi expected. Running into Mirrormon again would most likely end with an unfavorable outcome, but they were a team. They'd fought bad guys before, and they'd always figured something out.

Maybe that was why everyone slowly started to agree. One by one, they accepted this proposal—even Yamato, though he looked (understandably) grumpy and reluctant about it. With everyone on the same page, they set up a date to patrol.

Thus, two days later, Taichi sat in his room, sitting backward in his desk chair, with Yamato across from him on the edge of Taichi's bunk. Sora, Miyako, Koushiro, and Takeru were also here, though Miyako and Takeru had been—upon Taichi and Yamato's request—coaxed outside by Hikari to wait for the others in the warmth of a lovely summer day.

"I don't like this," Yamato muttered. "I don't see why I can't just stay with my brother."

Taichi sighed. "I know, man. Hikari didn't like having to isolate Takeru, either. That's why Miyako went with her, too."

"It feels like I'm lying to him."

"I know. We're going to work this out."

"And are you going to tell me why, then, that you've decided to pair me with Jou and Iori instead of Takeru?"

Yep. He knew that was coming. "Hear me out."

Yamato straightened his spine and looked him in the eye. "I'm listening."

"Ok, so on the off chance that Takeru is keeping something from you—"

"Why would he do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Taichi continued. "I'm not saying he is, alright. I'm speaking hypothetically here. If he is keeping secrets, what if… what if he'll open up to someone else about it? He already talked to Hikari about some things, and you seemed kinda surprised. So… maybe he'll do it again."

Yamato was silent for a bit, like he was mulling it over. His expression became unreadable as he worked his jaw, left to right, right to left.

Then, eventually, finally: "He's pretty close to her."

"That's what I was thinking," Taichi said.

"I still feel like I'm deceiving him. He deserves honesty," Yamato persisted.

"I know, man. I know. I'm not saying it's right, but… it's worth a shot. If nothing happens, we can apologize to him if you want to."

Yamato rubbed his temple with a sigh. "What if it breaks his trust? He'll want to know why I haven't come to him."

A pause. Taichi wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. He wasn't Takeru; he didn't know what was considered 'too far'. He didn't know where Takeru's line was. So he just said, "...then why haven't you?"

Yamato looked away. "It's complicated."

"Did it happen again?" Sora asked quietly. Gently. She sat on the edge of Hikari's bunk, knees and legs resting on the ladder. "The sleepwalking?"

"No," Yamato said with another heavy sigh. "But he's been tossing and turning, and… sometimes… he mumbles in his sleep."

"What does he say?" Koushiro inquired.

"Not really sure. The movement wakes me up, but I'm not really, fully awake. And he talks so quiet, I can't understand anything. He could be mumbling something in French for all I know. But..."

Yamato paused again, brows scrunching, lines of worry marking his forehead. He raked a hand through his hair, fingers lingering at the nape of his neck, like the weight of something sat awkward and cumbersome on his shoulders.

"He just acts like everything's fine. How am I supposed to talk to him about it? Takeru's really good at changing the subject; he redirects it if he doesn't want to talk about something, and he does it well. Well enough that it's hard to remember what I wanted to talk to him about in the first place. And… and I did some research on sleepwalking."

"...oh?" Sora prompted.

"Yeah," Yamato went on. "I did. It's highly likely that he doesn't remember it at all, so… so how am I supposed to address the issue when he doesn't remember anything? It's a little hard, Taichi. That's why I haven't done it."

"Have you… talked to your mother about it?" Sora's voice was still gentle, still careful. Like she was walking on thin ice. Like each step—or rather, each word—was a gamble. "About the history of his sleeping habits?"

Yamato's shoulders grew tense, sliding back ever-so-slightly, and his bloodshot, exhausted eyes looked even more bloodshot and even more exhausted.

"No," he admitted finally, looking away again. "Dad says we should, but… but Takeru's still pretty hurt about her moving. It's a tender subject. So… so that feels like lying to him, too. We agreed if he had another episode we'd ask her."

"I see," Koushiro said.

"Is he… settling in well?" Sora said.

Apparently, Takeru had opened up a little to the others while they were on their walk to get take-out, and then mentioned it several times while everyone was eating. Taichi hadn't known that it was a secret until it was too late, but he was relieved that it wasn't a secret anymore.

"I… I think so. Or at least, I hope so," Yamato answered. "He loves it when I cook, and he's been… talkative. More talkative than I remember him being. He even wants to join me for practice tomorrow night and watch our rehearsal. I think he's happier with me and Dad."

"I'm glad to hear that," Sora said with a fond smile. "He did seem pretty happy when he talked about it."

"Hikari said he bragged about your cooking," Taichi teased.

Yamato's head snapped up. "Did he really?"

"Oh yeah." A grin surfaced on Taichi's face. "She said she's never seen him light up like that."

Yamato's expression softened into something almost foreign—something warm and affectionate, something that exfoliated the tension from his body. "It's good to see him smiling and happy. But…" The expression vanished in seconds, and the tension and fatigue came rushing back in its place. "You see why that makes it hard? He acts so cheerful during the day, and then—"

"Yeah, I get it," Taichi said. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to push your buttons. I was only asking for clarification."

"...yeah."

A silence followed this exchange, drifting between them with the lazy ease of an autumn breeze, but that 'lazy breeze' seemed to cause so much damage. It tore apart the threads of their very tentative and very fragile plan. They could only control so much, and when their grip on even that was lost… what did that leave them with?

Taichi's door was closed, but they still heard the apartment door swing open. Hikari called, "Nii-san, everyone's here!"

"Guess that's our cue," Taichi said. "You ready?"

Yamato snorted. "No. But you're dragging me along anyway."

"I wouldn't if I didn't think we needed everyone."

"I know. Now shut up and take care of my brother, wherever you go."

Taichi's lips quirked upwards as if underneath the guidance of a puppeteer, gathering every last drop of courage he had. "Planned on it."

Maybe it would have been faster to divide up into groups of four instead of three, but separating was already a risky move and Taichi didn't want to take any more chances. He sent Yamato with Jou, Iori, and Ken to check the area in which Mirrormon had originated; Mimi with Miyako, Daisuke, and Koushiro to the area he'd targeted; while he remained with Takeru, Hikari, and Sora to check the final area where he was last seen.

"So we're going to the forest?" Takeru asked from his place behind Hikari on Nefertimon.

"Yeah," Taichi said. "That's not an issue, is it?"

He was riding with Sora on Birdramon, while Agumon and Patamon stayed in their child forms to conserve their energy in case they were needed for battle.

"No, it's fine," Takeru said. "It'd be cool if we could find my d-terminal. I was just making sure I heard you right."

"You weren't spacing out on me while we went over the plan, were you?"

He'd said it teasingly, lacking any sort of heat, but the guilt evident in Takeru's expression made it seem like he'd scolded him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Taichi just grinned. "Nah. I'm sure Hikari was listening. Right, sis?"

Hikari turned to him with a feigned look of confusion. "Huh?"

Taichi's grin dropped from his face like it was something he'd released into the hands of gravity. "Oh, ha, ha."

"Don't worry," Sora said, though the way her lips twitched foretold a fit of giggles. "I was listening."

"Yeah. That's why you're laughing at me, too, right?"

"I'm not laughing at you."

"You are."

"Hikari is funny," Sora said with a helpless shrug.

"Awww," Hikari said. "Sora thinks I'm funny."

"You're hilarious," Takeru said with a chuckle.

"I get it from Grumpy Pants over there."

"Is she referring to you, Taichi?" Agumon asked.

"Yeah. I think so. Ok, you've redeemed yourself," Taichi said, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not the grumpy one. We all know who that is."

"You're talking about Nii-san, aren't you?" Takeru said. "He's not always grumpy."

"We know he's not," Sora said fondly.

"Yeah, he's like a kitten," Nefertimon said.

"A tiny, baby kitten," Patamon added with a nod.

"Yep."

Hikari and Takeru broke out into giggles. Takeru said, "Don't tell him you said that."

"I think the only one who could get away with that is you," Taichi said.

"Me? Insult Nii-san?" Takeru looked offended. "Never."

"But I think he's right," Hikari said, smiling. "You're the only one who could get away with an insult."

"I can't imagine insulting the person who opened up their home to me," Takeru said.

That caused their conversation to stumble a bit, dropping low, until Hikari caught it just in time to make a flawless recovery. The wind pulsed against Taichi's ears, so he didn't catch everything she said, but from the looks on hers and Takeru's faces, it seemed like smooth, easy conversion. Even Patamon joined in occasionally.

She chatted happily with him, all the while keeping an eye on the ground below. Taichi and Sora kept an eye out, too, and he caught Takeru sneaking glances here and there but seemed to avoid looking down.

Taichi didn't say anything, though. Wondered, fleetingly, if Takeru was afraid of heights.

Taichi focused, instead, on the task at hand. At the very least, he wasn't going to embarrass Takeru by bringing it up. He soon became wrapped in view below—all lush greenery, ant-sized digimon, and shimmering tree leaves. Everything moved by so quickly, and they weren't even going very fast.

"That's it, right?" Sora pointed off in the distance. "The forest?"

"I think so," Taichi said. "Hey, you two—"

"—hey. Hey, Takeru, are you alright?"

The sudden worry in Hikari's voice pulled Taichi's attention away from his surroundings and stole the rest of his sentence. He looked over at his sister in confusion, raising a brow at the sight of her craning her neck to see why Takeru apparently wasn't responding.

Birdramon drifted closer to the pair as Sora said, "What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" Takeru blinked somewhat dazedly. "What?"

"Are you ok?" Hikari repeated, eyeing him with concern.

If Takeru responded, the wind carried his words far from Taichi's ears. He didn't even see Takeru's lips move.

"You're holding on really tight," Hikari observed, though she didn't seem bothered by it. "...Takeru?"

"Hey, Takeru," Taichi said, a little louder than Hikari. He was starting to get worried, too. "What's going on? Everything alright?"

No response, at least… not immediately. Belatedly, Takeru blinked again and asked, "What?"

Taichi's heart descended from its throne under his ribs. Something… something definitely wasn't right. He sounded… disoriented. Sluggish. Like they'd just disrupted his slumber and he was struggling to fully awaken.

"Are you feeling ok, hun?" Sora asked gently. "Do we need to make a stop?"

"He went really tense all of a sudden," Hikari told them. "And… and I think he's mumbling something. I can't tell."

"Patamon?" Taichi looked at him as if he could provide any answers.

The little guy was sandwiched between Takeru and Hikari, and he looked equally concerned. His eyes were glued on Takeru when he murmured his partner's name.

The wind snapped and whirled around them. Birdramon was as close as she could get without disturbing Nefertimon's flight, and even Agumon was looking at Takeru fretfully.

"Takeru?" Hikari repeated, sounding scared now. "Why are… why are you letting go of me?"

Right as she finished her question, Takeru started to lean away from her. Taichi's heart plummeted even further than he knew possible.

"Nii-san, he's going to—"

Takeru's eyes were open wide and yet he acted as though he was asleep. In a haste, Sora hooked one arm around Birdramon's talon and the other shot out to catch him, but she missed him by millimeters.

Taichi swore he saw red. The wind became mute as all shouted Takeru's name in horror, and Taichi watched as Takeru sank towards the Earth like a falling meteor.

"Nefertimon, he's falling!"

Both Birdramon and Nefertimon swooped down to stop Takeru's fall, but he was going too fast. Taichi's skin prickled and tingled uncomfortably as he held onto Birdramon's talon for dear life. Their descent was so sharp and steep.

Patamon was cocooned in bright white code. As Angemon, he was there before the other two, and it was when Angemon finally caught him that Takeru started screaming he was in pain.

"We need to get to the ground," Taichi called, although Nefertimon was already on it.

Sora nodded, and though it took less than a minute to reach land, it felt like much longer than that. As soon as Birdramon's talons touched the earth Taichi was running toward Angemon, who cradled Takeru.

"I want to be on the ground," Takeru was saying, voice trembling. He was begging, like Angemon had been torturing him and he just wanted it to end. "Please. Please… I don't want to be up high anymore… please..."

"Takeru," Hikari said, tears streaming down her face. She was next to Angemon, trying to reach him. "You're on the ground." She fisted her hands into the grass and pulled it loose, choking on a sob as she lifted it, apparently, within his line of sight. "See?"

Except, Taichi realized belatedly, Takeru's eyes were closed. He was cradling his head, visibly shaking, and even as Taichi and Sora crowded around him, coming down hard on their knees as they panted for breath, Takeru did not react to them.

"Takeru," Angemon echoed soothingly, arms enveloped protectively around him. "Listen to me… you are safe. You are safe."

"Gotta find Nii-san," Takeru murmured, pulling at his hair so hard that it had to hurt. "Gotta find Nii-san…"

"He said something was chasing him, in a forest."

Taichi went doll-still as Yamato's words from the other day echoed in his mind. His heart was gone with no hope of returning, captured by gravity and sinking forcefully into the soil beneath them; and yet it was pounding so hard in his chest.

"He was calling for me. He kept shouting, 'Gotta find Nii-san! Gotta find Nii-san!'..."

Pounding. Pounding. Sinking. Tremoring. Takeru's earthquake had reached him and it was decimating him from the inside. The weather was pleasantly warm and Taichi's skin was covered in goosebumps regardless.

"Message Yamato, fast," he said to Sora, who was already reaching for her d-terminal.

"Yamato's not here," Hikari told Takeru, sounding absolutely devastated. "But we're here. It's me, Hikari. Takeru, can you… can you look at me? P-please…"

"Gotta find Nii-san," Takeru continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "Gotta find Nii-san."

He was an earthquake in Angemon's arms. Finally, his eyes popped open, but they were glassy. Unseeing.

Taichi wasn't close enough to get a proper look, but something was off. His eyes weren't deep blue. They were murky. Cloudy. Speckled with traces of deep, dark red.

Taichi wasn't one to get scared easily. But that sent a destructive shiver down his spine, strong enough to linger longer than it was supposed to.

"Sweetie, I messaged your brother," Sora tried. "He'll come soon."

"Gotta find Nii-san. Gotta…"

He repeated it over and over like a child's mantra. Like it was a lullaby made for him alone.

"He's shaking badly," Angemon said, glancing up at Taichi. Then his gaze shifted northbound, to trees that bordered the very forest toward which they'd been heading. "I wonder…"

"What?" Nefertimon said urgently.

"There's… there's something wrong here," Angemon said. "That forest is… it's oozing with negative energy."

Agumon shuddered. "You feel it, too?"

Angemon nodded, standing with a mumbling, wide-eyed Takeru still in his arms. "Let's go."

Taichi stood as well, as did Sora. Taichi said breathlessly, "Go where?"

For an answer, Angemon walked briskly in the opposite direction of the forest. He moved faster and faster with each step like he'd extend his wings and fly at any possible moment. However, they remained tucked into his shoulder blades as he ran faster, faster, faster.

Taichi took off after him without much thought. He didn't see what Sora and Hikari were doing, but he could hear the wings of their partners beating rapidly and forcefully against the wind.

Taichi was used to following his instinct, even if his instinct told him to do the most dangerous thing possible. He was used to being light on his feet, able to change plans or direction with little trouble. He never expected something like this, but he kept running even when his chest burned as if a fire had been started beneath his skin.

A fire that spread to his lungs, stealing his breath. A fire that spread to his hips and legs, scorching his muscles. Still, he pushed on, trailing behind Angemon with no intention of stopping.

At some point, Birdramon hovered over him, and Sora reached out her hand to grab him. Agumon was on the other talon, urging him to accept Sora's arm. He did, breathing heavily, vision swimming, and Birdramon lifted him from the ground.

The goosebumps wouldn't fade. He gripped Sora's wrist tightly, flushed and sweating, and he knew just how badly he could injure his shoulder by holding on like this with nothing stable underneath him. He dangled dangerously in the air and he didn't care.

Eventually, finally, Angemon stopped. He halted so abruptly and so quickly that the rest of them were startled, and then everyone was back on the ground.

Taichi's eyes widened as Angemon set Takeru down on the ground. Birdramon drifted lower, until Taichi's shoes dusted against the grass. He released Sora's arm and called, "What're you doing?"

Angemon stepped back, hovering over Takeru but giving him enough space to stand if he wanted to. Given what he'd just witnessed, getting up on his own was the last thing Taichi expected Takeru to—

Except he did exactly that.

Taichi slowed his pace out of pure shock. Panting, he watched as Takeru drew himself up like a puppet, knees bending and straightening, arms coming out to gain his balance—not that he needed it. He moved so fluidly and effortlessly, without wobbling, like someone else was in control.

As he neared, Takeru met his gaze and blinked. He looked impossibly confused. "...why are… you running?" He glanced back at Angemon. "What were we doing on the ground?"

"You…" Even as a fairly athletic teenager, Taichi was beyond winded from sprinting. He rested his hands on his knees. "You… asked us… to…"

Takeru, however, only blinked again, tilting his head with a puzzled expression. No cloudy eyes. No red. "I… I did?"

Hikari slid off Nefertimon and dashed toward him, and Takeru's expression quickly shifted into one of alarm as she threw her arms around him. "You fell, Takeru! You were…" She trailed off, visibly shaking. "You don't remember?"

Takeru welcomed her embrace but the answer to her question was given to them by Takeru's face. He obviously didn't have a clue as to what was going on, and that suddenly made everything so much worse.

"...how am I supposed to address the issue when he doesn't remember anything?"

Sora had been quiet until now, like she was waiting until she could think of the right thing to say, but then her d-terminal went off and after a moment, she said, "Yamato messaged back."

"Nii-san messaged you?" Takeru asked, brows knitting together. "Is he in trouble?"

Sora shot him a quick, but reassuring smile. "I don't think so, hun. I'm sure he's alright." And then, to Taichi, in a quieter voice: "He wants to know where we are, but he also says that they found something."

A ripple of unease was triggered by her words, expanding farther and farther out, to each and every one of them. The earthquake and the hellfire in his body had stopped, replaced by an eerie, icy coldness that traced the pathway of muscle and skin.

"Oh," Takeru said faintly.

"That… that doesn't sound good," Hikari said, now stepping back away from Takeru. She wiped her eyes and looked at him. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Takeru said, though his tone was solemn. He smiled still and Taichi wondered if it was genuine or if the gesture was bestowed to Hikari only to reassure her—dancing the puppet's dance to make her happy, to throw them off.

It wasn't fair of Taichi to think he was purposely hiding something. It wasn't fair to be suspicious. But… but what was the reason behind all of this?

Takeru seemingly fell from the sky and couldn't recall it. It didn't make sense.

"Are you alright?" Takeru echoed.

"I was worried about you, you big dummy," Hikari said, giving him a playful shove with a croaky, wet laugh.

Takeru looked incredibly, painfully remorseful upon hearing those words, but before he could breathe a word, Birdramon dipped her head down and said, "Did Yamato say what he found?"

"No, he didn't," Sora replied with a heavy, puzzled expression. "But he sent their coordinates."

She wasn't telling them everything. It was obvious in the way that her eyes flicked up and down from their group to her screen. Taichi walked over to her slowly.

"He's freaking out about Takeru," she whispered in a voice that was barely audible. "He's asking a bunch of questions and I don't know how to answer them."

Taichi swallowed. "Ask him if he wants to come to us or if we should go to him. We can send our coordinates, too."

"Is everything ok?" Takeru asked, frowning deeply. His eyes—back to a startling, deep blue—were soulful and worried.

How could someone shake and scream and be so disoriented and snap back to normal like it hadn't happened at all? Even Angemon, Nefertimon, and Hikari looked terribly confused and concerned, like they weren't sure how to handle the situation, either. So they were forced to join the dance, too/

Taichi sighed inwardly. He knew now why Yamato was so conflicted, why he was filled with such uncertainty and regret upon confronting Takeru.

Admitted, "...I'm not sure yet."

Ch 09 || System Error

Takeru's words echoed in Yamato's head endlessly, stuck in a haunting, bone-chilling loop. Alongside his brother's confession were his memories from the previous few nights. The screaming. The whimpering. And knowing that Takeru had so easily plummeted towards death without him there… it was terrifying. He'd almost lost his brother twice in just a few weeks.

His head spun, whirling too fast for comfort, and yet when he walked, his gait remained natural. Casual. He had no interest in going back underground—the discovery had been made by accident, after all, when they'd been examining the perimeter of the burnt down garden, and Jou had leaned back against a mossy rock that turned out to be a den of sorts—and he also had no interest of showing Takeru, either.

Except… Takeru wanted to see. Takeru wanted to know. It wasn't fair to keep him in the dark—especially given the circumstances. So now they walked, side by side, to the den where their friends were most likely located.

"We're not going to stay long," Yamato told him quietly. "Just long enough to investigate as a team, and then we'll leave."

"Right," Takeru whispered somewhat distantly. "Ok."

Why had Gabumon and Angemon gone with their friends? It had been nice at the time that they wanted to respect Takeru and Yamato's privacy, but now they were vulnerable and defenseless.

But then… the den was only a few minutes away; five at most. And if something happened in the den—though they'd have to devolve to enter—they'd need all the help they could to make sure everyone got out safely.

Another reason not to linger longer than they had to.

"We'll figure it out, Teek," Yamato assured, a little unnerved by Takeru's tone. "Alright?"

Takeru didn't look at him, but he scooted closer to Yamato as they walked. "Alright."

A cluster of unfiltered questions zoomed through his head like a vehicle without breaks. He wanted to ask so many things. That would only make the situation worse, he knew, and so he kept quiet, even when they neared the mysterious mossy den and heard voices from inside.

It had been a weird surprise that it was so big. From the outside looking in, it seemed so tiny. Maybe big enough to house one or two digimon. But as soon as they walked through the entrance, it expanded into a massive underground tunnel, and—not for the first time—Yamato wondered what kind of thing could have done this.

"Whoa," Takeru breathed out in awe, as Yamato clicked on the flashlight feature on his digivice. Even in his bewildered state, Takeru was able to do the same after a few moments. "This is… this is huge…"

"Watch your step," Yamato warned. "It goes under, and it's easy to trip if you're not careful."

"Alright."

With one hand on the wall to stabilize himself, Yamato's other arm hovered around Takeru, preparing to catch him if he stumbled. The pathway was a bit rocky, and even with the flashlight, Yamato wasn't sure if he'd miss something and cause one of them to lose their footing.

"...who could have done this to him?" came Mimi's voice, laced with melancholy.

"I think the real question is how they did it to him," Tentomon said.

"And how in the world he got down here," Miyako added. "The opening wasn't very wide, you know! And this guy isn't exactly small."

The gravel crunched and rolled underfoot as they drew closer and closer to the other Chosen, who expressed similar concerns. Takeru gave Yamato a puzzled look, but it was then that they finally came to a stop that he nudged Takeru with his elbow, coaxing him to look at where the group currently stood.

Takeru expelled a gasp of wonder. "What the heck…?"

Many pairs of eyes looked in their direction. Each of them had their flashlights going, and Yamato swept his digivice across the edge of the tunnel, illuminating each crevice and abnormality that their lights couldn't reach.

There, on the ground, unmoving and death-still, was the body of a Kuwagamon. It hadn't moved an inch since Yamato's group decided to explore the tunnel, and under the shimmering lights of their digivices, it didn't even look like it was breathing.

If this wasn't the digital world, where creatures didn't die but were instead reborn, Yamato would have called it a corpse. That was exactly how it appeared—the shell of a being whose soul had departed from its body.

"That's what we're thinking," Daisuke said, bug-eyed and a little pale.

Finally, Takeru started moving again. His steps were careful and uncertain, eyes locked on the Kuwagamon, and Yamato started to follow him. Hikari squeezed her way through the ground, looking noticeably distraught, and as she reached Takeru, Yamato heard her murmur, "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, I think so," was Takeru's barely-audible reply. Then, much louder: "How did this happen?"

Patamon—as Yamato had suspected, he'd devolved back into child form—was fluttering above it with a pensive expression. He then looked at Takeru and made his way over to him before perching himself on Takeru's head.

"I think I've seen him before," Patamon said finally. "He looks familiar."

"What?" Yamato asked. "Where?"

"I'm… I'm not sure…" He paused, face scrunched in concentration. "He smells different than the Kuwagamon I fought, but… but I keep thinking this is him."

"You fought a Kuwagamon?" came Koushiro's voice. "When?"

"It was when you'd been separated from Takeru."

As Patamon said the words, Yamato's gaze was still locked on Takeru and his partner, so he immediately noticed the way his body went still. Immediately noticed the look of alarm on Hikari's face, like she'd caught it, too.

Something about that struck him as odd, but before he could push the issue, Iori said, "That's right… you had just finished a battle with something when we found you."

"But they don't smell the same," Patamon persisted. "This one smells… stale."

"We don't know how long he has been down here," Gabumon pointed out, coming to Yamato's side. "Perhaps that is why he has such a strange odor."

"I don't smell anything, other than dirt," Daisuke said.

"I was about to say the same thing," Ken said. "But that could be because our digimon have sharper senses of smell than we do."

"True," Jou said contemplatively.

"What kind of stale are you thinking?" Takeru asked Patamon, moving his neck ever-so-slightly to gaze up at him. "Like, stale water? Or… a weird smell in an old house?"

Patamon was quiet a moment as he thought. It was Tailmon who said, "He smells… dusty to me."

Sora scanned Kuwagamon's eerily still body in a slow, fluid motion. "He doesn't look dusty."

"And he doesn't show any signs of decomposing," Jou added. "I'm sure we'd smell that."

"Well, that would make sense, considering he's made of data," Ken said. "They wouldn't go through the same process that a corpse would, right?"

"Ugh." Miyako shuddered almost audibly. "This is giving me the creeps. Talking about dead bodies."

You're telling me, Yamato thought dryly as he suppressed a shudder of his own.

"I think a change of subject is in order," Hawkmon said, ruffling his feathers as if equally uncomfortable.

"I think…"

It was Koushiro who had spoken, but he trailed off in thought, which gained more than one's person's interest. Mimi said, "Care to share with the class, or are you just going to leave us hanging, dear keeper of Knowledge?"

Humor laced her words, but Koushiro didn't react accordingly. Instead, he tapped his chin, studying Kuwagamon's not-corpse intently as he traced its outline with his digivice.

"I wonder if he's frozen in time, somehow," he continued, sounding more like he was talking to himself than a fairly big group of people and digimon. "Maybe he's not a corpse at all, but rather a Kuwagamon who was carefully preserved for the very purpose of stalling his rebirth. Or… or maybe something in his programming simply went wrong."

"Meaning…?" Taichi prompted.

"Think of it as a program or system error," Koushiro explained. "Sometimes when a computer malfunctions, it freezes. This could be for a multitude of reasons—an error in the software or hardware, lack of system resources, a bug or virus, or a driver malfunction that can cause a program to stop responding."

"Not sure I'm following," Daisuke said. "Am I the only one?"

"You're not," V-mon assured him.

"I'm a little lost, too," Taichi admitted sheepishly.

"I think I get it," Ken said thoughtfully. "Digimon are made of data. They're filled with specific code and programming, just like a computer."

"So you think that Kuwagamon's just stuck in an unresponsive state?" Hikari said and looked down at Tailmon. "Has that ever happened to a digimon before?"

"Not here," Tailmon replied.

"But in the real world," Yamato said, catching on. "Like when we fought Diablomon using the computers. He stopped responding because he was overloaded."

"Oh, I see now." Taichi snapped his fingers. "All those emails slowed him down. But that… that was connected to us fighting him on the internet, right?"

"Right," Koushiro said. "But the very fabric of the digital world is composed of similar coding and programming. No system in the world is entirely flawless—so it could just be an error that needs to be corrected."

"But… how do we correct it?" Sora asked. "We can't leave him like this."

"I agree," Hikari said, her voice slightly hoarse like she'd been crying. "No being deserves this kind of fate."

Yamato couldn't see her face because she wasn't facing him. He did, however, see the way Takeru reached for her hand, as if to comfort her in silence. Takeru had been fairly quiet throughout the conversation, but Yamato didn't have time to ponder too deeply on this before Koushiro spoke again.

"Like performing the steps of troubleshooting to repair a computer, there are a few things we can do." He walked down the decidedly wide path left between the group of Chosen the Kuwagamon as he continued to examine Kuwagamon like a lab specimen. "Typically, the first step is to run a scan for viruses. Though usually, if a digimon's code is corrupted, it doesn't simply stop responding. Its behavior is affected the most."

"Like the black gears?" Mimi asked in a hushed voice.

"Kind of," Koushiro said. "The black gears were parasitic in nature, yes. But if a digimon's code is corrupted, it usually happens prior to or at birth."

"Like in Diablomon's case," Taichi said.

"Exactly." Koushiro nodded without facing them. "If there is something harmful in Kuwagamon's code, we would have to figure out a way to remove it. Computer programs that are in need of updates can sometimes malfunction, and the easiest way to fix that is to backtrack to the developer's website and see if there are any patches or updates."

"Um, not to be a bummer but hello, does Kuwagamon look like he's got a website we can just click on?" Miyako cut in. "I'm not seeing a link anywhere. How in the world would we 'install updates' in a digimon?"

Palmon shivered. "That sounds painful."

"That's how I digivolved the first time," Tentomon said proudly but deflated somewhat after a moment. "But it was rather unpleasant the first time Koushiro-han tried it."

"Wait a minute," Daisuke said. "So there is a way to 'update' a digimon?"

"Not exactly," Koushiro said. "Back then, I was only trying to decode the inscriptions to see what I could find out about the digital world. We were already in an area that responded well to my computer, and I'm not sure if this place would respond similarly. I don't see any inscriptions in this tunnel. The program also responded to my digivice, so it's a bit of a special case.

"I was forced to disconnect the first time because the program was harmful to Tentomon, but my digivice triggered it. Kuwagamon isn't a human's partner, so without a digivice to serve as a catalyst, it's unlikely that we could produce similar results."

"Oh, I see," Miyako said. "When you download some kind of update, you have to reboot it to make sure it works properly, right? Sometimes they don't get installed correctly, or something gets messed up. You didn't really expect it to happen the first time, and so you probably didn't do it right because you weren't prepared."

"That makes sense," Daisuke said, and then, after a brief pause: "Sort of."

"But we could talk to Gennai," Koushiro went on. "He could know something about the development of Kuwagamon's programming."

"But who knows how long that would take?" Yamato said, starting to get a little annoyed. "Our main priority is making sure that Mirrormon isn't still around to pose a threat. I'm not trying to be heartless here, I just think that tracking him down is more important than tracking down some Kuwagamon's 'software update'."

"Hey, wait a minute."

Takeru's voice almost startled him—not because he forgot that he was present, but because he'd been so quiet that he hadn't expected him to finally speak up. Yamato met his gaze as Takeru turned toward him, and Hikari prompted, "What is it?"

"Could… could Mirrormon be responsible for this?" Takeru suggested. "Patamon… before he… he had me hide in the forest, he did fight a Kuwagamon."

"Who mysteriously vanished when it ran out of strength," Tailmon said.

"But Patamon said they don't smell the same," Hikari pointed out.

"Yeah, but… but it could be connected, somehow." Takeru paused for a few moments, like he was mulling over something. "Maybe… maybe Mirrormon's the one who trapped Kuwagamon like this."

"But… but how could he get down here, of all places?" Mimi asked.

"Once Mirrormon no longer had a use for Kuwagamon, he tossed him aside," Ken said.

"And it'd make sense to place him somewhere where no one could easily find him," Wormmon added.

"He did summon him from out of nowhere," Patamon said with a sad undertone. "He just appeared. It makes sense for him to be transported in a similar fashion."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Hikari asked, looking at Koushiro. "To help Kuwagamon, I mean. There has to be something."

"Something fast, hopefully?" Jou added.

Koushiro tapped his chin again. "Rebooting the system is fairly quick and simple. However…"

"Every time you say that word, it fills me with dread," Miyako said. "Just spit it out already."

"Well, think of what happens when you force a computer to shut down," he persisted. "If your computer is frozen, yes, it is a fast and effective way to unfreeze it. But doing so could corrupt files or the software.

"In Kuwagamon's case… we'd have to defeat him to reboot him. We'd have to kill him, and his code would be transferred to the Village of Beginnings so he could be reconfigured. If we kill him in this state—or 'shut him down forcefully', in this case—it could corrupt his data and we would have to face the consequences. He'd essentially have a virus, which is what we want to avoid."

A somber hush fell among the group. Yamato chewed his lip, wanting more and more to get out of this stupid tunnel and go home. Mirrormon was a threat looming over all of their heads, and as much as he didn't want to upset anyone—specifically, any of the younger kids—by just leaving Kuwagamon like this, but they didn't have time to focus on something else, especially if it wasn't as violent or threatening at the moment.

"That's awful," Iori said remorsefully. "Even if Kuwagamon didn't get corrupted, we'd still have to kill him to trigger reconfiguration."

"Yeah," Mimi said. "Sometimes… sometimes there's no other way but to take a digimon down to get it to stop hurting you or others. Sometimes you have to do what you can to protect you and your friends. But it seems cruel to just take his life, even if he'll come back."

"And he didn't do anything wrong," Hikari murmured.

"It'd be one thing if we knew he'd come back with no risk of infection or corruption," Tailmon said. "But to be uncertain…"

"It's a gamble," Jou said.

"I… I do think Yamato's right, though," Taichi said. "We've got bigger priorities. I know nobody really wants to leave him here, but we've got to find Mirrormon. We'll reach out to Gennai and come back to help Kuwagamon as soon as we can."

"Maybe the way to help him is to destroy Mirrormon," Sora said.

"And at least we found a clue," Piyomon said. "It's better than what we had before."

Something about those words sent an unpleasant, foreboding shiver up Yamato's spine. Sent goosebumps pebbling over his skin. Sent his mind back to panicked, blood-curdling screams and unseeing, red-laced eyes and…

"I think we've spent enough time down here," Yamato said before he could linger too long on those thoughts. "We should get back."

"Agreed," Miyako added. "Not that I don't want Kuwagamon to wake up, but… imagine if he does all of a sudden. There's not exactly room for a battle. If he flips out or something, we could get trapped in."

"Thank you so very much for putting that image in my head," Yamato deadpanned. "Really appreciate it."

Miyako shuddered. "No, the pleasure is all mine."

Very slowly, everyone—humans and digimon alike—began to inch toward the entrance of the tunnel, all murmuring to each other about what Kuwagamon's 'frozen' state could mean. Yamato, however, just wanted to get out of this place as soon as he was physically able, and he had no interest in making small talk or theorizing.

As everyone started to filter out, Yamato turned his flashlight in the opposite direction when he realized Takeru was not with the group. He hadn't moved, and neither had Hikari and their partners.

"Takeru," he called, taking a step toward him despite how his skin crawled at the thought of staying in this tunnel for a second longer. "We need to go."

"What's wrong?" Hikari asked, so quietly that Yamato almost didn't hear her. She was looking at Takeru in concern. "Takeru?"

Then she looked at Yamato, all hesitance and unease, and Yamato called back to the group, "Hold on a moment."

The group of Chosen lingered, but the tunnel seemed much more ominous without the light of their digivices. Yamato's, Hikari's, and Takeru's flashlight feature only touched so much, but Takeru's was locked on Kuwagamon's motionless figure.

Yamato swept his flashlight over Takeru's silhouette. "Teek. C'mon."

"There must be more."

The words left Takeru's lips in an eerie, disembodied sort of way. Like they hadn't come from him, but a spectral being whom they could not see. As Yamato neared him, each step tentative and shaky, he caught a glimpse of Takeru's expression.

He looked at Kuwagamon like he was putting together the final pieces of a puzzle—pieces which all belonged to the same cluster, similar in shape and color, so it would be easy to place them in the wrong spots.

Naturally, Yamato was confused by his statement: a statement that could mean a list of so many different things, and none of them any less sinister than the next. He had reached Takeru's side but Takeru did not acknowledge him.

"Takeru, there's only one digimon here," Yamato said slowly with an apprehensive undertone. "Where would the rest be?"

Slowly, mechanically, Takeru swept his flashlight down the uncharted area of the tunnel—the area that none of them dared to explore—and stared at it like he was in a trance.

"He may be right," Gabumon said. "We don't know for sure."

"And we won't unless we check," Tailmon said.

Suddenly Takeru turned back to Yamato, glancing at him, and then at Gabumon, and then back at Yamato. He craned his neck to look once again at the unexplored depths of the underground passageway.

The big, dark tunnel abruptly seemed so much bigger and so much darker. The goosebumps prickling Yamato's skin refused to leave.

"I don't think it's safe to go any farther," Jou said. "We don't know what's down there and Miyako made a valid point—should Kuwagamon wake up at any time, we don't know how he will react."

"Right," Taichi agreed. "We need to retreat without a chance."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Takeru said, turning back toward them. "I could be wrong. It's just… there has to be more somewhere. Mirrormon summoned a whole bunch of different digimon, didn't he? If this really is the Kuwagamon Pegasusmon fought, and Mirrormon's the culprit… wouldn't he bury the rest of the digimon?"

It was an unsettling point, but it also seemed like a logical theory. But that wasn't what struck Yamato so deeply—it was Takeru's expression and tone, shifting from mysteriously ominous to confused. A little disoriented. Like he wasn't sure why he suggested there were more in the first place.

Hikari stepped away from Takeru and toward Kuwagamon. Yamato's eyes widened, and many of the others—Taichi, Miyako, Agumon, Sora, Tailmon, Gabumon, and Takeru himself—hastily wanted to know what she was doing and begging her to stop. Hikari, though, acted as if she didn't hear them at all, and instead extended a hand to dust her fingers over Kuwagamon's shell.

Yamato sucked in a hushed breath of anticipation. His body became incapacitated with shock.

"He's warm," she murmured softly.

"...really?" Takeru asked, dropping all hints of reluctance to walk toward her.

"Takeru," Yamato said, reaching out to grab his wrist instinctively. "Hikari. Get back here. We have to leave."

"But Nii-san—"

"We have to leave," Yamato said sternly. "We've spent a lot of time down here. We can investigate another day."

"He's right," Taichi said, stepping down carefully toward them. He walked toward Hikari.

"But… why would he be warm?" Hikari said, not reacting to Taichi's presence at all.

"Maybe he's overheating," Miyako joked. "You know, like a computer when too many programs are running."

"Miyako, I think you're onto something," Koushiro started, hastily squeezing back through the crowd. "Let me see—"

"No," Yamato said, because everything about this situation was just wrong and he couldn't play nice guy anymore. "We have to get out of here. That means you, Takeru, and that means Hikari; and Koushiro, if you try to convince them to stay a second longer I will make you wish you never came down here to begin with."

The last part was hissed, and he sat there seething for a bit, fingers tightening around Takeru's wrist protectively.

This stupid tunnel was dangerous. Part of him wasn't sure why he thought so—maybe it was just paranoia and concern for his brother clouding his sense of reason—but he didn't care. Takeru's strange behavior was only getting stranger, and the only way he could think of to put an end to that was to leave the digital world completely.

"Please," he whispered, body trembling along with his voice. "It's time to go, Takeru. Please listen to me."

Takeru looked at him with wide, worried blue eyes—eyes that seemed to glow in the inky dimness of the cave. After a breath's pause, he murmured, "Alright, Nii-san. Let's go."

The tension in Yamato's body seeped out like blood from a lesion. He exhaled in relief and tugged on his brother's wrist. "Good. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Wait," Tailmon said.

"What?" Yamato snapped.

"You go on ahead. Some of us digimon should investigate."

Hikari looked down at Tailmon with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"My vision's pretty good in the dark," Tailmon said. "There's so much of this tunnel we haven't seen. I think some of us should stay behind to see what we can find and report our findings later."

"I think that's a good idea," Tentomon said. "I'll join you."

"Me too," Armadillomon chimed. "If something happens and we get trapped somewhere, I'll be able to dig us out."

"I'll stay, too," V-mon said, stepping forward. "For back-up."

"The rest of us can continue patrolling from above," Agumon said.

Ken looked down at his partner fretfully. "Are you certain that you'll be ok?"

"I'll be fine, Ken-chan," Wormmon replied. "Covering all the bases seems like an excellent plan."

"We've got digimon who can search by air, land, and by sea," Gomamon added. "A lot of the digimon around here are still living in fear after Mirrormon's attack. We need to show them there's no reason to be afraid."

"Agreed," Palmon said.

"Be careful, Armidillomon," Iori said.

"Same to you, Tentomon," Koushiro said. "It'll be just like last time. Contact me if you find anything."

"Will do," Armidillomon and Tentomon chorused.

"You're coming home with me," Yamato whispered to Gabumon. "Patamon, too."

Maybe it was selfish to demand that. The digimon were going to need all the help they could get in patrols—but something wasn't right with Takeru, and Yamato needed all the help he could get, too.

"Understood," Gabumon said, glancing up at Patamon, who nodded subtly in response.

Takeru was so wrapped up in the chatter of the other digimon as they constructed a plan of who would go where that he didn't seem to notice. Yamato tugged on his wrist again, coaxing him into movement, they all—with exception of the digimon who were patrolling underground—made their way in the direction whence they came.

"I've had enough spooky crap for today," he muttered, sighing once again when they made it out. "Time to go home."

"Aww, Nii-san," Takeru said with a teasing smile. "You don't like spooky stuff?"

Maybe he said it to get Yamato to laugh. Maybe he said it to break the ice that had somehow formed around the group. Or maybe he said it to ease his own anxieties—he had, after all, looked extremely fretful when Yamato reached his breaking point.

Whatever the case, it worked like a charm. Laughter rippled through the group, and even Yamato was thankful, despite being the subject of teasing, for the humor in Takeru's words.

"No, kiddo," he said, soaking up the light of the sun like he hadn't seen it in weeks. "Spooky's not my thing."

"Right," Mimi said. "He prefers rom-coms instead."

"I dunno," Daisuke said, all solemnity and concentration—the exact opposite of Mimi's playful demeanor. "I always pegged him as a sci-fi kinda dude."

"No way," Miyako butted in. "He's totally into the detective scene. You know, crime and suspense and all that Noir stuff. He's a rock star—he's got that edgy vibe."

"Not true! Ken doesn't have that vibe and those are his types of films!"

"Nah. He's a total action movie guy," Taichi said, the grin evident in his voice.

"Nii-san, just 'cause you're an action movie buff doesn't mean every guy is," Hikari piped up teasingly.

Yamato rolled his eyes as they put more and more distance between themselves and the creepy tunnel. The whole exchange was painfully inaccurate, but the change of subject was appreciated. Anything to get his mind off unresponsive coding and unsolved mysteries and destructive, psychotic digimon.

"I don't think he's into just one genre," Takeru said with a chuckle. "He's actually got a pretty wide taste in movies. Provided they're not bloody or sad."

"At least somebody knows me," Yamato said, secretly proud.

"'Course I do," Takeru chirped. "You're my Onii-san."

"Well, I'm just glad you two made up," Sora said warmly.

"I agree," Iori said, a bit hesitant. "You two don't seem like a pair that fights often."

"I don't know someone who doesn't fight with their siblings," Miyako grumbled. "Mine are always giving me crap."

"You're telling me," Daisuke said. "Jun is always on my case about something."

"I don't really like to fight with people," Takeru admitted, shooting Yamato a look that was both apologetic and filled with adoration. "It usually ends in someone getting hurt."

Something melancholic and wistful was threaded in those words that Yamato chose, for the moment, not to examine. It was lonely and fragile, like a young animal that had been separated from its mother far too soon; and he wouldn't lie if he said it didn't worry him, but it was a discussion they could have in private.

"I'll try not to be so overbearing," Yamato said finally, sighing for dramatic effect.

"I think it's admirable," Ken said somewhat sheepishly. "You're really lucky to have a brother like Yamato, Takeru."

His tone was achingly similar to Takeru's—something that whispered of loneliness and loss, of secrets and long-buried memories—and he paused for a moment to look at Ken perplexedly. His expression was somewhere between fond and regretful, and it struck Yamato deeply and unexpectedly.

Daisuke and Miyako went quiet for a moment, like they knew something he didn't. Before he could dwell too deep on it, Takeru said, "...yeah. I am."

Any confusion or anxiety was melted by the warmth of those words, replaced by a fondness reserved for very, very few people. He looked at Ken with an inexplicable, abrupt sense of respect, and then at Takeru with affection.

"Careful, tourists," Mimi announced in a hushed voice, like she was trying to avoid startling a wild animal. "If you look to your left, you'll catch a very rare sight—one Ishida Yamato showing what really exists underneath his edgy, punk-rock façade: a softy. One-hundred percent teddy bear."

"What in the world are they talking about?" Piyomon asked, looking at Hawkmon.

"No clue," Hawkmon replied.

"They lost me a long time ago," Gomamon said.

"You're not alone," Jou said.

"I must admit that I'm lost as well," Koushiro added.

"Feel free to take pictures," Mimi went on, undeterred. "It's a once in a lifetime sight—"

"Gabumon, you can digivolve and attack her now," Yamato deadpanned, unamused. "Make it slow and painful."

"Gabumon would never attack anyone, Nii-san," Takeru said.

"Gabumon and Garurumon are very different."

"Looks like the tourists have lost their chance at the rare photo," Miyako continued for Mimi as they continued to walk. ""Will we get lucky again? Quick, Takeru, say something super mushy—"

Yamato glared coldly at her. "I never liked you."

"Hey now," Jou cut in, like he was trying to play the role of peacemaker. "We made it this far without insulting each other."

"Why don't we keep that streak going?" Sora suggested.

"But I'm having fun," Mimi said with a pout.

"Me too," Miyako added. "It's hilarious seeing Yamato go from teddy bear to porcupine."

"You know what else would be fun?" Yamato asked flatly. "If you two would shut up."

"Nii-san," Takeru chided.

"Yamato, you're supposed to be the older one," Jou said.

Giggles and laughter erupted throughout the group, and despite Yamato's earlier words, the light conversation was a much-needed distraction from all the tension. He still planned on returning to Earth with Gabumon and Patamon, and Takeru would probably wonder why, but he could think of an excuse later.

He could do everything later. Maybe.

For now, they just needed to get to the closest portal. Without even meaning to, he'd taken the route around the burnt garden, rather than through it, and so it was taking a little bit longer than he originally expected.

But it'd be fine. Going through that village would kill the mood that Takeru had so easily and effortlessly created, and if Takeru was distracted… if the team was distracted, then Yamato could be, too.

For now.

Yamato's heart was still pounding when they got home. From anxiety or exertion, he wasn't sure.

As he'd expected, Takeru had been curious as to why Patamon and Gabumon had followed, and Yamato didn't have the heart to lie to him again. So he just told him that it was a precaution, and thankfully, Takeru didn't push it.

It was mid-afternoon at this point, and they'd walked out in the heat again from Koushiro's place. Takeru had, for some reason, declined another ride—including Yamato's motorized scooter, although he'd seemed alright the day their mother had told him to stop by—and Yamato refused to let him walk alone.

Yamato supposed he'd have to start writing down a list, with all the things he needed to talk to his brother about. He hoped they could have a discussion soon.

If they didn't, it would probably eat him alive.

"What do you want for supper, kiddo?" Yamato asked as they slipped off their shoes.

Takeru glanced at him worriedly. "You're not too tired to cook?"

Truthfully, he was exhausted. His legs ached from the walk and his mind refused to give him a break. But Takeru's diet had suffered for far too long—he couldn't let him go hungry, and Takeru was only just now learning how to cook for himself.

"I'm fine," Yamato said, lips twitching with his best smile.

"That's your 'I'm dead on my feet' smile."

"Yeah?" Yamato raised a brow. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm your brother," Takeru replied, with a proud little smirk of his own. "Besides… Mom's always tired. It's kind of easy to pick up on."

"Let me worry about me." He wasn't going to admit how much that stung. "I promise I'm fine."

"You're looking rather pale, Yamato," Gabumon pointed out.

"And sweaty," Patamon chirped from on Takeru's head.

Yamato shot them both a look that very clearly said, Whose side are you on?

"It's 'cause we walked home, isn't it?" Takeru's smirk was gone in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Nii-san. You didn't have to walk with me."

It was almost an invitation. An opportunity. Yamato leaned against the wall by the door, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. Then, as casually as he was able: "Why don't you tell me about that?"

"Tell you about what?"

"Why you're suddenly afraid of vehicles."

"I'm not afraid of vehicles," Takeru said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah? Then what is it?"

Takeru walked past him almost gracefully but didn't look at him. "If I tell you, you'll laugh at me."

"Takeru, I will absolutely not laugh at you," Yamato said, pushing himself off the wall to follow him.

"Yes, you will."

"I won't."

"And I won't, either," Patamon promised earnestly, now fluttering in the air.

"Same here," Gabumon said.

"It's really stupid," Takeru said, almost nonchalantly. "Not really worth discussing."

"Takeru, it's bad enough that you chose to walk in almost ninety-degree weather," Yamato tried to reason. "If you tell me… maybe I can help."

Takeru sighed but still didn't face Yamato. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, and then another. "...the wind freaked me out."

Yamato blinked. "The… the wind?"

"When Dad rolled down the window," he clarified as he filled both cups with water. Walked over to the table, still averting his gaze, and set the glass down in front of Yamato. Yamato hummed his thank you as he raised it to get a drink, and Takeru continued, "We were going kinda fast, and it was… it was so loud in my ears. It freaked me out."

"How come?" Patamon asked.

Takeru was quiet for a few moments. "Remember… when you were fighting Kuwagamon, and you dove to avoid getting hit?"

Yamato blinked once more in confusion, but Patamon nodded as he perched himself on the table. "Yeah?"

"It… it freaked me out, too. The wind was so loud, and I thought… I thought, 'cause we were going straight down, that I might fall…"

He shuddered, like the very memory disturbed him, and placed his cup on the table without even taking a drink.

"Takeru, I wouldn't have let you fall," Patamon said.

But he… he did fall… Yamato thought, struggling to put the pieces together that Takeru was laying out for him. Today. Didn't he?

"I know," Takeru mumbled. "I know you wouldn't, but… but it still scared me. It was just so sudden. My hands are tingling just thinking about it."

"And the wind… reminded you of that?" Gabumon asked gently.

"...yeah, it did. I—I didn't expect it to, but… but Dad's window was down, and the wind—it was loud, and I felt like I was… I was back there, and—and then I was nauseous—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Yamato said, setting the cup down again as he focused on Takeru. But he paused, hands hovering over Takeru's shoulders. "It's… Takeru… you're shaking."

Takeru laughed, but the sound was self-deprecating. Hollow. "It's so stupid. I've been in the air a bunch of times. I rode on Nefertimon today, and I couldn't even look down. I don't know why this bothers me so much."

"I don't think it's stupid," Gabumon said.

"Neither do I," Yamato said. "Did… did it happen when you were on my scooter, back when we went to Mom's?"

A pause. Takeru looked at the floor, like he knew that was where Yamato's heart had plummeted.

"I would have stopped for you," Yamato said. "It wouldn't have bothered me at all."

"It's not a big deal," Takeru whispered.

"I'm sorry I caused you to stress, Takeru," Patamon said mournfully. "When I dove, I only wanted to keep you safe. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know you didn't, Pata." Takeru's voice was still shaky and he didn't look up from the floor as he spoke, but the words were gentle and soft nonetheless. "That's why I didn't… I didn't want to tell anyone. I'll probably get over it."

"Sometimes," Yamato began carefully, fingers coming down very slowly to rest on Takeru's shoulders, "...when we go through pretty scary stuff, it leaves a lasting impression. It can make us feel like we're stuck. It's not silly or stupid, Takeru. You went through something traumatic. Of course it'll affect you deeply."

Yamato tried incredibly hard not to blame himself. A lot of traumas that Takeru had faced were beyond his control—and yet it felt like it was his fault. If he had been paid more attention that day when Mirrormon appeared, Takeru and his partner wouldn't have been left alone. If he had found him sooner, Mirrormon wouldn't have made him a target. If he'd protected him better during their time in the digital world in general…

...would he have ended up suffering like this?

He'd meant it when he said that the digital world had played a significant role in shaping Takeru as a person, and he knew about the occasional nightmares and insomnia. He knew, though he'd never mentioned it aloud, that Takeru struggled deeply with abandonment, and even that was his fault.

What a piece of shit brother he was.

I'm sorry I failed you, Takeru, he thought, fingers tightening on Takeru's shoulders. I'm sorry you're suffering.

Out loud: "Do you… have flashbacks like that frequently?"

Takeru looked up at him then, eyes webbed and uncertain but also so very confused. "Flashbacks?"

"That's what… they sound like to me," Yamato answered. "I get them, too, sometimes."

"...you do?"

It came out a whisper. Yamato nodded. "We were all so young when we went to the digital world. We saw some pretty scary stuff, so… so it makes sense. Puppets still give me the creeps."

A thread of humor entered Takeru's gaze and a croaky giggle left his lips. "I never liked them, either."

He wasn't going to tell Takeru that a lot of things that scared him in the digital world had been because he had come dangerously close to becoming an only child, more than once. That piece of knowledge frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

"Yeah, they're totally freaky, aren't they?" Yamato said out loud, lips twitching again with a smirk.

"Totally. And Pinocchimon…" Takeru shuddered again. "He scared the crap out of me. So creepy. But you and Gabumon took him down."

Gabumon's cheeks went a little pink. "We had help."

"We did," Yamato agreed and looked at Patamon. "You pack quite a big punch, little guy."

Patamon beamed at him with pride. "All in a day's work."

Yamato turned his attention back to his brother. "I know that we can't exactly talk to people about the digital world. They'd probably think we're crazy. But there are things we can do to help. You know that, right? You don't have to walk everywhere for the rest of your life."

"Hikari is never gonna let me ride on Nefertimon again," Takeru said with another throaty giggle. "I held onto her for dear life."

"I'm sure she would have said something if she was uncomfortable," Gabumon said.

"I think she knew it, though," Takeru persisted. "She kept trying to distract me."

Yamato arched a single brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, like, she kept talking to me like she knew I was nervous."

He squeezed Takeru's shoulders again before taking a step back. It seemed the tremors had calmed now, at least. "Well… if you ever have a problem, tell me, ok? We'll get through it."

Takeru looked up at him again, all sincerity and gratitude. "You're a good brother, Nii-san."

Yamato laughed and shook his head. "I doubt that."

"Why? You put up with me."

"I don't 'put up' with you," Yamato said instantly. "I told you, it's my job to look after you."

"You're really the best, Nii-san."

"Nah. Everyone decided I'm the cranky one, didn't they?"

"Yeah, well, you're not everyone's brother."

Yamato almost snorted. "Yeah. Thank god. You're the only one that I want to call my sibling."

"...you wouldn't want anyone else, if you had to choose?"

"Of course I wouldn't."

He said the words without hesitation, and then Takeru was quiet. So quiet that it coaxed Yamato to look back at him, and he blinked in alarm when he saw that Takeru's eyes were glistening with tears.

"Hey, what's wrong? You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Takeru said, blinking several times and looking away. "You're, um. You're the best, Nii-san."

Yamato's expression softened again. His hand came to rest on the top of Takeru's head. Repeated in a whisper, "Nah."

A silence ensued, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. Though it didn't last long before Yamato sighed. "You hungry?"

"Nii-san, you really shouldn't push yourself to cook," Takeru said. "I can tell you're tired."

"You can, huh?"

"It's kind of written all over your face. You've even got bags under your eyes."

"I do not," Yamato said indignantly. "I don't get bags."

"Actually, I see them, too," Patamon said.

Again. Whose side are you on?

Accepting his fate, Yamato sighed in defeat. "I'm sure we've got something in the fridge that I can just heat up."

"That's fine with me," Takeru said. "Just make sure you sit down soon."

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. He was so tired he thought about canceling his next rehearsal.

"I'm your brother. It's my job to look after you," Takeru echoed with that same proud, tiny smirk.

"Using my own words against me. That stings a bit, Teek."

"Gabumon, make sure he sits down, please?" And then: "...hey, Nii-san?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I take a shower before supper?"

"Go for it," Yamato said instantly and had to bite his tongue before he asked Patamon to tag along. Could he be blamed, though, for fretting when so many unnerving things had happened to Takeru in such a short amount of time? "I'll be out here if you need anything."

"Sitting down, hopefully," Takeru said with a pointed look.

Yamato sighed dramatically and pulled back a chair. "I'm sitting down."

"Do you need me for anything?" Patamon asked Takeru.

"Nah. I won't take long," Takeru said.

He disappeared into their bedroom presumably to get a fresh pair of clothes, and Yamato reached for his cup of water again. Maybe he should have made Takeru drink his own before he showered, but his earlier words echoed in his mind again and he decided to, instead, remind him when he finished.

"Yamato?" Gabumon whispered when Takeru was out of earshot.

"Hmm?"

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Even Patamon turned to look at him. "Is that why you asked us to stay?"

Yamato sipped his water slowly. Inhaled just as slowly to gather his thoughts. "Something's going on with him. I'll fill you in when he's in the shower, ok?"

Both digimon nodded, and although he knew it needed to be done, he dreaded having to retell Takeru's bizarre behavior, especially the sleepwalking and fitful nights.

He took another sip of his water and swallowed. And another. He didn't realize just how thirsty he was until it was gone, and Patamon and Gabumon even looked concerned, considering Patamon offered to refill his cup.

He wondered, not for the first time, when this summer would become less stressful.

Despite his exhaustion, Yamato had trouble getting to sleep. His mind refused to slow down. Refused to give him anything that resembled peace.

He kept thinking of Takeru's confessions. One after another, they played in his head, so many times that they were permanently engraved in his brain. It didn't help that he'd been forced to retell the same story to the digimon that he'd already explained far too many times than he wanted to.

Cuddled up with Patamon, Takeru seemed a little more at ease, though Yamato caught the way he shuffled and twisted under the blanket. It wasn't until Yamato whispered for Gabumon to join them that Takeru finally settled down, but Yamato's mind was still whirling.

He wasn't sure when he finally drifted off. He must have been up for at least an hour or two, and he tried his best to keep still so he wouldn't disturb Takeru's rest, but in doing so, he must have relaxed to the point where sleeping finally became appealing to him.

It didn't last long, though. Takeru's panicked, startled yelp catapulted him from slumber so startlingly fast that his heart felt as if it had broken through muscle and bone to reach the other side of his chest.

"Takeru?" he whispered immediately, bug-eyed. "What is it?"

A hasty shuffling sound was his answer. Like he was trying to get the blankets off. Yamato sat up, blindly groping for the lamp switch on Takeru's lamp. It took about ten seconds of awkward fumbling, and by then, Patamon and Gabumon were hopping off the bed and expressing extreme concern.

"Teek," Yamato said, urgently this time. Takeru was kicking at the blankets like they were physical beings that had trapped him, and he was whimpering uncontrollably. "Takeru, hey… shh… what's going on? What're you—"

"Let me out," Takeru choked out, almost like he wanted to scream but couldn't quite figure out how. "L-let me out… it's dark down here! It's dark!"

"Is he having a nightmare?" Patamon asked fretfully.

Takeru's eyes were closed. Yamato's stomach churned with unease and fright as he kicked his own blanket off, racing clumsily around the bed to reach his brother. Placed his hands on Takeru's fists, which were punching haphazardly at the fabric of his covers.

"I'm right here," Yamato said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Hey. Takeru, can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?"

"Please…" Takeru begged in desperation. "Please let me out… can't see… it's dark…!"

"Help me get the blanket off," Yamato ordered the two digimon who just stared in horror.

"Right," Gabumon said, recovering swiftly.

It was difficult because Takeru kept thrashing around. Every time Yamato reached for a fistful of fabric, Takeru shoved him away. Mumbled the same distressed plea over and over again like it was some kind of prayer that could keep him safe. Scratched and panted.

"Takeru, buddy," Yamato tried again, as the blanket finally came off, "please listen to me. You gotta wake up… everything's alright, Takeru, I promise…"

Takeru sat up, eyes opening wide and the look on his face was immeasurably haunting.

Tendrils of red swirled in his irises like thick, bloody ribbons. His skin was alarmingly pale, and he looked at Yamato like he didn't even see him.

He's asleep.

"My word," Gabumon said. "Yamato… his eyes are…"

Yamato was so bewildered and surprised by the sight that it trapped him in a daze. He sat frozen and saucer-eyed on the bed as he stared, and it wasn't until Takeru's hands pushed him forcefully away with a sob that he was able to move again.

"Takeru," Patamon cried out as he chased after him.

"Go, go, go," Yamato said to Gabumon, standing on unstable legs as he ran out as well. Takeru moved like he was being followed by something Yamato couldn't see. He bumped one of the chairs as he ran, stumbling a bit, but recovered before Yamato's hands could grab him.

"Takeru," Patamon cried again.

A door opened, but it wasn't the apartment door—though that seemed exactly where Takeru was headed. His father's voice said, "What's going on?"

"Sleepwalking," Yamato said, not even bothering to turn around and face him. He reached the door right as Takeru jostled the knob, and Yamato thanked whatever divine being that existed above that it was locked.

Except Takeru's next idea was to scratch at it like his fingernails were sharp and strong enough to break through solid wood.

"Takeru, no," Yamato said. "Stop… stop, it's ok… it's alright…"

"It's so dark," Takeru sobbed. "Let me out… let me out!"

"Turn on the light," Yamato said to his father, while he tried frantically to restrain Takeru so he wouldn't hurt himself. He also didn't want to make it worse, especially because Takeru's body was moving in jarring, jerky movements. Like something was trying its best to control him but Takeru refused to give in.

His father obeyed before rushing over to help him, and Takeru scratched at Yamato's hands with enough force to make him hiss in pain.

He pounded on the door.

He scratched on the door.

He sobbed and begged and fought and screamed. God, his scream… it was like listening to someone being brutally, mercilessly tortured. Every basic, instinctive part of Yamato ached, hearing that sound. Like it was a physical weapon that tore through his insides with the force of a bomb on the peak of explosion.

It was a sound that completely, irreparably decimated him from the inside.

"Takeru, please," Yamato pleaded brokenly, grabbing his brother's wrists as gently and as firmly as he could, but it was hard when his own body was shaking. "Stop… you're hurting yourself… Teek…"

His father's hands cupped Takeru's shoulders. Takeru cried out like he'd been burnt, and he hiccuped and wept, arms twitching against Yamato's hold.

"Nii-san…" Takeru sobbed, squirming and hiccupping. "...Nii-san… I can't… he's after me…"

"Who, Takeru?" Patamon asked in a wobbly voice.

Yamato's grip tightened ever-so-slightly, coaxing his now cracked and bleeding fingers away from the door.

"I'm right here." His voice trembled. "Can't you hear me, Takeru?"

"I want out," Takeru repeated. "Nii-san… I'm trapped… it's dark down here… please…"

"Dad turned on the light," Yamato told him. "You're alright, Teek. It'll be alright. Shh… shh…"

His father released Takeru's shoulders as Takeru's knees buckled, and his hands swiftly moved to under his arms to catch him but Yamato said, "I-it's fine. I got him."

"Yamato," his father said, almost exasperatedly. "You're wearing yourself out."

Yamato's arm swept around the small of Takeru's back, effectively slowing his fall. "We need bandages. He's bleeding."

A brief pause. A sigh. "...alright. I'll get the kit."

Yamato didn't respond. Takeru hiccuped again but didn't speak, either. Trembled and wept silently. Croaked out his brother's name, his voice hoarse most likely from screaming.

Yamato's chin came to rest on the top of Takeru's head, and he continued to shush him as his sobs grew quieter and quieter. Gabumon and Patamon crowded around them, staring at Takeru anxiously and worriedly.

Slowly, slowly, the tremors in Takeru's body calmed. And gently, gently, Yamato uncurled his fists to reveal bruised, cracked knuckles. His fingernails were chipped and broken.

"You've really done a number on yourself, haven't you?" Yamato murmured, and then, experimentally: "Teek?"

No answer.

"Takeru? Hey, Takeru?"

Nothing.

"His eyes are closing," Gabumon told him. "Kind of like he's fighting it."

"We need to clean him up," came his father's voice. "I'll… I'll call your mother later. We'll discuss this."

"I've never heard him scream like that," Yamato whispered, remaining motionless. "At least last time… he acknowledged me."

His father was quiet for several moments. Then: "He probably won't remember it when he wakes up."

"What're we supposed to do? He'll wonder what the hell happened to his hands."

"Can't we just tell him the truth?" Patamon asked.

Yamato kept his eyes stubbornly on the door through which Takeru had tried to escape. He worked his jaw repeatedly, his mind whirling once again. They couldn't hide it much longer, not with physical evidence. And… and his eyes…

With a sigh, his father slid between the two boys and the door, crouching down to inspect Takeru's wounds for himself. "I'll fix him up, alright? Already washed my hands. Just… keep him still. Keep him relaxed."

"Planned on it."

Suddenly Takeru seemed so young. Way younger than thirteen. Takeru was practically in his lap, back to his chest, with Yamato's chin on his head and one hand still closed around his wrist.

"You saw his eyes, didn't you?"

His father had already cleaned and bandaged two of Takeru's fingers. Looked up at him fleetingly with his brows raised. Yamato didn't meet his gaze; instead, his eyes remained fixed on the webs of blue and purple and red on Takeru's hands. Dried blood and bruises that were sure to get worse. "I didn't. He was faced away from me the whole time."

Yamato hummed. Of course.

"I saw them," Gabumon murmured. "They… they looked like—"

"Don't say it."

Gabumon quieted obediently, and even Patamon stayed silent. His father looked up at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Yamato muttered.

"Yamato…" Gabumon hedged.

"It's not him. It can't be him."

"What can't be him?" his father pressed.

Yamato had seen little threads. Had seen sparks of red in his brother's usually startlingly blue eyes. He'd always thought it was his imagination. That exhaustion had blurred the line between real and hallucination. But… but he couldn't explain it now, not when crimson overwhelmed blue so completely.

"Look, son," his father persisted, sighing as Yamato watched his every move. He was disinfecting Takeru's other hand now. "I didn't mention it when I came home earlier, and… and not that your friends aren't welcome here. But… I've played this game before. They don't usually come here unless something's… wrong."

"We're figuring it out," Yamato said shortly, refusing to look at him. Watched as his dad smeared antibiotic cream on Takeru's right index finger.

"You're certain it doesn't explain your brother's recent… episodes?"

"It can't be."

"...it could be," Patamon mumbled. "He was in that forest by himself."

"And whose fault was that?"

For a moment, Patamon seemed so incredibly distraught and shattered by the accusation that regret pierced through Yamato's body. Patamon lowered himself to the floor, ears drooping to the ground. "I… I just wanted to protect him…"

Yamato cursed under his breath. "Wait. No. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry." Patamon didn't look up, and his voice was filled with remorse. "It's my fault."

"It's not," Yamato said. "You did your best. I was the one who didn't look after him like I should have."

"Yamato, you mustn't blame yourself," Gabumon whispered. "It simply happened—no one is at fault."

An exasperated sigh. "I've no clue what's going on here. But whatever it is, it's… bad, isn't it?"

Yamato stared hollowly at Takeru's freshly-bandaged fingers. 'Bad' didn't even come close to describing this. Everything was spiraling out of control and seemed fine at the same time. Each almost-answer that they could find ended up leading to more unsolved mysteries and more questions.

Finally, reluctantly, Yamato admitted, "I don't know."

A knock on the door made all four of them jump. Takeru stirred in Yamato's arms, and Patamon and Gabumon rushed to hide as Yamato wondered how the heck he was supposed to move away from the apartment door for his father to answer it without waking Takeru.

"Nn…" Takeru's eyelids fluttered. "...Nii-san?"

Winded. Scratchy. That was how it came out, and another knock followed when his father turned around and used the doorknob to get to his feet with a grunt.

"Shhh," Yamato soothed, trying to ignore the way his heart dropped. He hadn't had time to process anything that had just happened—no way could he piece it together for his brother. "We're going to bed, 'k?"

"Mm." Takeru's body remained boneless. "My… my throat hurts…"

"S'ok, buddy. We'll worry 'bout it later."

"M'tired."

Carefully, hesitantly, Yamato shifted Takeru's weight, hooking an arm under Takeru's knees, and put all of his own into his legs so he could push them both up. He teetered slightly, but his father was there to grab his arm, giving him an uncertain look before Yamato whispered to Takeru, "Time for bed, yeah?"

Takeru hummed sluggishly as his head lulled in toward his chest. Yamato turned vigilantly, just as his father opened the door.

He was fairly certain he heard the words 'officer' and 'disturbance.' Yamato's eyes narrowed, figuring one of their neighbors must have contacted authorities after hearing all the noise.

Part of Yamato was sorely, deeply offended. Maybe it was the grumpy, exhausted part of him that just wanted everything to stop. He was so tired that his head was pounding, and his eyes ached.

As if he'd ever do something to Takeru to make him produce such a blood-curdling scream. The sound alone was enough to haunt him for weeks. He couldn't imagine hurting Takeru at all.

The other part wasn't all that surprised. If… if he heard someone screaming just like Takeru had screamed, wouldn't he assume that something was wrong as well? That something unspeakable was happening within the walls of—

"Son," his father called in a hushed voice, effectively silencing that train of thought.

Yamato placed Takeru gently on his mattress, where Patamon and Gabumon sat patiently, and scowled irritably at his dad. "What?"

"Someone called it in," he said with a sigh. "They want to talk to you."

"We'll watch over him," Gabumon vowed, fixing the blanket to cover Takeru.

Patamon snuggled up to Takeru's abdomen. "Leave it to us."

Yamato pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttered under his breath, "I'm not in the mood for this shit."

The only reason he walked to the door with so much as an ounce of self-control was that he didn't want to risk waking Takeru. The only reason he didn't yank the door open and shout a string of obscenities at the officers was that it might have scared him.

They'd been woken up enough by arguments, often containing curse words and raised voices.

"What do you need?" Yamato hissed through clenched teeth. "If you so much as mention me or Dad laying a finger on my brother…"

"We're just following up on a complaint," one of the officers stated. "Your… your father said it was a night terror that caused all the screaming?"

His heart was pounding. His body ached and throbbed and begged for him to climb back into bed and pass out. And yet he was standing at the door, talking to people he'd rather not talk to, at who knew what time it was.

His hand was shaking on the knob when he finished verifying his father's story. It probably only took a few minutes, but the seconds inched by so slowly. It felt like an aching eternity had passed before the officers finally bid him good night.

"I'll call your mother in the morning," his dad repeated to him as he made it back to his room. "Get some rest."

Yamato grunted without looking at him, practically stumbling to his bed before climbing into it.

Sluggishly, he grabbed his cell from his nightstand and searched for at least one of his bandmates' names. Looked at Takeru, at his partner and Patamon, and typed without checking for mistakes: Cant make it to practice tomorrow, smth came up. Reschedule?

Sent.

His eyes were so heavy and his body was so exhausted that he could have just put his phone back on the nightstand next to Takeru's new one, but instead searched for Taichi's name.

Hey. We gotta talk abt Takeru. Happened again.

His fingers hovered over his keyboard. Hovered. The last thing he wanted right now was to admit that something was wrong with his little brother, or that it was connected, somehow, to the digimon they were currently hunting. The last thing he wanted to do was head back to the digital world and relive the events that were painfully fresh in his mind.

His thumb moved to hover over the 'back' key to exit the chat.

Discard?

But if it could stop Takeru's suffering… what if, despite how badly he didn't want to accept it, this behavior was really linked to Mirrormon, and his denial only made things worse?

His thumb moved again. Tapped.

Sent.

Yamato put the phone down. Faced his younger brother, dread pumping through him alongside fatigue. Patamon was still curled up by Takeru's abdomen, and Gabumon watched the two of them obediently.

"He looks so peaceful now," Gabumon observed quietly.

Yamato hummed. His hand moved on its own to ruffle Takeru's hair. Murmured, "You're really scaring the shit out of me, kid."

The sound of a door creaking tugged Takeru so gently from his slumber that it was so easy to roll back under. Each footstep was accompanied by a new tug, causing his eyelids to flutter and his body to twitch. It wasn't until a hand came down on his shoulder that his eyes finally opened fully, revealing a hazy silhouette.

"Takeru?" his father said. "You have visitors."

"Nn?" He rubbed an eye sleepily with the base of his palm and then turned to his brother. "Nii-san…"

"Mm?"

"We have visitors," he echoed sluggishly. "Time to get up."

Yamato exhaled heavily but did not move. Takeru lazily kicked off his blanket and pushed himself with his elbows, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Murmured, "I'm comin'."

He shuffled toward the door, sliding past his father, and blinked when Hikari peered her head in, her features pulled taut with urgency and worry.

Takeru stopped, blinking back the sleep that still lingered in his mind. "Hikari?"

In moments, the sluggishness in his brain and the world around him became distressingly, chillingly clear. Then he was faced with a puzzle to put together: the puzzle of what had happened to make her so unnervingly anxious.

"Takeru," Hikari murmured, eyes sweeping from him to Yamato.

Takeru looked back at his brother, who was still fighting the call of sleep. Although he couldn't see Yamato's face, he must have been incredibly tired, so Takeru glanced at his father and the two of them stepped silently out of the bedroom.

The door clicked shut. Takeru noticed Taichi standing by the door as well, and figured his father must have let them in.

"What happened?" he asked in a whisper.

Hikari blinked at him, frowning. "Did… you not get any messages?"

Takeru paused. "No, I… I just woke up."

Silence ensued, and Takeru's first instinct was to fill it. Anything to wipe those grim expressions from his friends' faces. But then Taichi said, "...it's noon."

"Is it really?" Takeru breathed out with wide eyes. "But we went to bed at a reasonable time…"

"Yeah," his father said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "You've slept all morning."

"Takeru…" Hikari spoke up again, hesitant and uncertain. "...what happened to your hands?"

Among the wave of emotions that swept through him was confusion. He blinked, and blinked again, and slowly looked down at his hands.

His eyes popped wide when he saw the bandages. His knuckles were swollen and purplish-blue, and he clenched his fingers experimentally, wincing when it stung.

At a loss, he glanced back at his father, who still looked incredibly awkward. His gaze fell back on his hands. "Um…"

On the other side of his and Yamato's bedroom door, there was shuffling. And then footsteps, one after another, and the door opened to reveal a visibly grumpy, sleepy Yamato, followed by two equally tired-looking digimon.

As if not-quite awake, Yamato reached for Takeru's wrist and mumbled, "C'mon, bud, we said we'd go back to bed, didn't we?"

Takeru, confused and a little anxious, took a step back. "But… but it's noon, Nii-san…"

"Yamato," their dad said gruffly, "your friends are here."

Yamato froze and he snapped into alertness as fast as a bolt of lightning coming down to strike the ground. He drew in the faces of Takeru, Hikari, Taichi, and his father, before he asked slowly, "What's going on?"

"That's what we wanted to know," Taichi said.

"Nii-san?" Takeru whispered fretfully, dread pumping through him as he fought to think of a reason as to why all of them looked so troubled. "I don't know what's going on, either."

Yamato cursed under his breath. "I didn't intend to sleep in so late."

"We've been trying to get ahold of you all morning," Taichi said.

"What?" Takeru said. "Why? What happened?"

Hikari, Taichi, and Yamato shared a knowing look that only made Takeru feel worse. Even Patamon and Gabumon hesitated to answer his question, appearing every bit uneasy as the rest of them, and his father cleared his throat again.

"I don't know all the details, but judging by the looks on your faces, and the presence of these"—he gestured to Gabumon and Patamon—"two, I can tell something's not right."

Hikari offered a quick, but respectful bow in response. "We're sorry to drop by so suddenly, Ishida-san. But it is urgent."

"What happened?" Takeru repeated, starting to become frustrated. "Someone… please tell me. I'm really lost."

Yamato peered into Takeru's eyes, searching. Searching. An indecisive expression crawled onto his face, and then his gaze drifted down to Takeru's bandaged hands. Desperate and helpless, Takeru looked pleadingly at Gabumon and Patamon for an answer, but right as Patamon met his eyes, Yamato finally spoke up.

"What'd you dream about last night, kiddo?"

Takeru blinked puzzledly at the random change of subject, and Yamato's voice was so soothing, so gentle, that he couldn't even be upset that he'd avoided his question. Instead, he thought for a moment, but… all he could remember was a dark, dreamless night.

There had been a few moments where Yamato's voice cut into his slumbering mind, but that could have been part of a distant dream that he couldn't recall. But still…

"I didn't," he said after a few moments.

A long, dreadful pause followed his words, and the seconds ticked by so slowly. Yet his heart was pounding already.

"Nothing at all?" Patamon asked.

"Nothing that I remember, at least," Takeru answered, suddenly feeling like he's failed a test. "Why?"

Yamato turned his attention to Hikari. "What's so urgent?"

"Koushiro says that Tailmon found more digimon," she said. "In that tunnel."

Once again, Takeru's eyes blew wide, and suddenly he felt as though he'd been locked inside his body. Like he was watching something drastic unfold behind a two-way mirror: reflective on one side and transparent on the other, where he couldn't be heard or seen, but he could hear and see everything.

He felt as though he was being excluded. Like he was an outcast, with no place to belong, and it was devastatingly lonely.

"—that."

Takeru blinked and he was back in control, thrust back down to Earth. His dad stared at him like he was some kind of alien, and both Hikari and Taichi shared the same grim, nervous expression. And Yamato…

Yamato cupped his cheeks and gazed deeply into his eyes for a second time. Searching. Digging. Digging. Trying to unearth something that Takeru didn't even know was buried.

"It's gone now," he murmured abruptly and released him.

"Nii-san, what're you talking about?"

Frustrated, hurt, and so very confused, Takeru wanted to know what the heck was happening and why everyone was acting so… so weird. His family was acting weird, and at least half of the Chosen were, too. Somewhere between on-edge, afraid, suspicious, and mystified.

"Yamato," his dad said in this strange voice, like he was giving a warning of some kind.

"We won't know much about what's happening unless we talk about it and fill everyone in," Taichi said. "And I do mean everyone."

Takeru's heart thumped and thumped. Hikari was oddly quiet, and the two digimon didn't speak up either, which did nothing to soothe Takeru's frustration.

"Taichi," Yamato said eventually. "Are we meeting somewhere? I haven't checked my phone yet."

"Back at Koushiro's," Taichi said. "We took a cab here, but everyone else is waiting. We couldn't get ahold of either of you, so we came to get you."

"I can drive you there," his dad offered.

Yamato glanced at Takeru then, as if he had the final say. Sheepishly, Takeru's eyes dropped to his feet, chewing away at the inside of his cheek as though the pain would be enough to calm his nerves. His legs still ached from the strain of yesterday's activities, and it'd take a while to reach Koushiro's. He didn't want to force his friends to overexert themselves because he was too afraid of a simple car ride.

Quietly, hesitantly, Takeru asked, "Will the windows stay up?"

"Yeah, Teek," Yamato said. "We'll keep them up."

"...alright then." Much louder: "Sure. We can go in the van."

"Thank you for the offer, Ishida-san," Hikari said with another polite, grateful bow.

Yamato and Takeru still had to get dressed in day clothes—though both of them were wearing what could be considered sleepwear, he didn't want to show up at Koushiro's in what he'd slept in—and Takeru knew that they didn't exactly have time to waste. Before they made it very far, though, Yamato reached for his wrist, careful of his bruises.

"Nii-san?"

"...I'll explain at Koushiro's," his brother told him quietly but solemnly, almost like a vow. "Ok?"

Takeru nodded, simultaneously relieved and unnerved by Yamato's words. Despite this, he simply echoed, "Ok."

And their quest to solve the puzzle that had now become their life continued.

Takeru kept his gaze on his lap for the entire ride, and he didn't look up until after his father had parked the van. As promised, the windows were kept rolled up, but Takeru remained twitchy and nervous. He couldn't hear the wind, but he knew it was there. He knew they were still moving, and at a fast pace.

By the time they stepped out of the van, his stomach was clenching and twisting uncomfortably. His legs felt too unstable and wobbly to support him as they stepped out of the vehicle, and he was lucky his friends were there to support him.

He was also unlucky to be surrounded by people whom he deeply admired with the knowledge that throwing up was almost inevitable. Even though his brother steadied him by grabbing his shoulders, Takeru had to use every ounce of willpower not to vomit all over their shoes.

"You alright?" Yamato whispered, voice barely audible.

"Mm-hm." Takeru inhaled deeply through his nose, steeling himself for what was to come. "Let's go."

After bidding goodbye to their father, Takeru and Yamato started walking toward Koushiro's apartment, with Hikari and Taichi falling in step with the two brothers effortlessly. Usually, the walking helped when he was anxious or nauseous, but at the moment, it only seemed to intensify with each step.

He had no idea what his brother was about to tell him, but he knew from their grim expressions that it wasn't going to be positive news.

"They know we're coming, right?" Yamato asked as they ascended the stairs.

"Yeah, I sent a group message on my d-terminal," Taichi said.

Takeru bit his lip nervously. Taichi hadn't meant it that way, but it was an unpleasant reminder that he'd lost his d-terminal with no guarantee that it would be found. He had a mobile phone thanks to his father and brother's generosity, but d-terminals were easy to use when the digital world was involved—especially because they didn't have cell reception in another dimension.

"They told us that we could come right in, as long as we're not too loud," Taichi added. "His mom is home, but she knows we're coming."

"Noted," Yamato said, and then silence flooded over them.

Takeru's relationship with Hikari, Taichi, and his brother was never awkward. In fact, Takeru found that conversing with most of the Chosen was natural and easy. They were a team, and they were all good people.

Yet tension webbed around them, and the longer it went unaddressed, the more intense and painful it became. Maybe that was because things in the group had been tense for a while, and he didn't exactly know why.

Anxiety was a ferocious beast in his chest, wreaking havoc from the inside. Tying his stomach into uncomfortable, sickening knots. Tightening his throat to the point of near-strangulation. Thrashing at his heart like it wanted to see how much force the organ could take.

Taichi knocked to announce their arrival before they stepped in, and Takeru swallowed. They said that walking in was fine, but it still felt intrusive. He still had trouble not knocking on Yamato's apartment—and bedroom, for that matter—door, and he lived there now.

With the encouragement of Koushiro's mother, they slid off their shoes, and Taichi led them to Koushiro's room. Yamato lingered behind him, but Hikari stayed by Takeru's side. She eyed him fretfully and asked, "Are you sure you're ok?"

His chest hurt. His fingers stung and throbbed. He was far from ok. Murmured, "There are more important things than me right now."

Right as they appeared in Koushiro's doorway, Miyako's voice exclaimed, "It's about time! We've been here forever!"

"I'm sorry," Takeru said instantly, guilt shoving its way in, fighting against anxiety for dominance. "I… I should have set an alarm—"

Yamato, however, had no such shame. He glared frostily at Miyako as they closed Koushiro's bedroom door behind them. "Don't be sorry, Teek. It was a rough night."

Takeru frowned as he glanced at him quizzically. "It was?"

Koushiro hummed before Yamato could answer. "Yes, Taichi mentioned your message."

"What message?"

Takeru was suffocating. His body ached with the need to release all of these violent, stagnant emotions, for at least a little relief, but his organs and bones had become a warzone. Anxiety. Confusion. Dread. Guilt.

Iori gasped. "Takeru… your hands."

"I don't know," Takeru said and faced his brother with a look of absolute desperation. "You told me you'd fill me in when we got here."

Yamato had that same torn expression on his face, and it was almost enough to get Takeru to stop pushing, but the mental battle of the beasts inside him said otherwise. He had to know, or he was going to explode.

"Please?" Takeru pressed.

A glance at Patamon. At Gabumon. Then Yamato inspected his hands again—his hands, which he'd picked at anxiously in the van—and sighed.

Finally, slowly: "Can checking on the digimon wait for a little bit? It's… urgent."

That word again. It made Takeru's skin twitch and crawl. Urgency meant he would know by now, right? Takeru swallowed again, throat parched, mouth dry.

"Do you two need to speak privately?" Jou asked tentatively.

Yamato's eyes flicked upward to meet his own, as if to say, "It's up to you."

"Is it bad?" Takeru whispered.

"...it could be," Yamato told him. "The only reason I didn't bring it up before was that I was struggling to figure it out myself."

Takeru quieted. Waited. Waited. His heart was beaten and bruised from anxiety's wrath, and he wasn't sure if he could handle another hit.

Takeru's silence, however, seemed to prompt Yamato to continue, although carefully. Like he was about to bear news which no soul ever wanted to bear. "Do you… still think you didn't run into anything—or I guess, anyone—in the forest that day? Before we found you?"

"I just walked around, looking for a way out," Takeru said. "...I followed the sound of your voices, actually. And the footsteps… Garurumon's footsteps."

"Are you sure?" His voice was so gentle and tentative, but also so very troubled. "Takeru, are you sure?"

"Try thinking back," Taichi prompted. "You didn't see anything… unusual?"

Takeru swallowed again. He pulled at his t-shirt as if that would stop the ache in his chest. Suddenly it felt like he was the object of everyone's attention, and he didn't want to be. He'd rather be invisible.

"We're just covering bases, here," Sora said tenderly. "Not to make you uncomfortable."

"Don't stress too much," Hikari added, placing a hand on his elbow. "Just try to think."

Takeru did. He dove deep into his brain, if only to give them an answer because even with the reassurance of their words, it still felt as if they were expecting one. 'I don't know' wasn't good enough.

He dove deeper. Muted the war raging inside him. Past the foggy memories and aching confusion. Past the anxiety, the dread, the guilt. Past the memories of yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. Deeper and deeper, he descended, searching for whatever it was that Yamato sought.

Rewinding. Double-checking. Replaying. Triple-checking. Ignoring muddled, disconnected thoughts and webs of fear.

Webs… his brain felt like a web. Felt like something had knitted together a silky net in his mind, a barrier designed to keep out memories and disembodied conversations. A barrier that housed and protected something inexplicably, frighteningly sinister: the mastermind, the very culprit of his torment. The spider who spun the web.

The puppeteer who was learning how to flawlessly and masterfully control its puppet.

"I found you."

Takeru didn't know how he ended up on the floor. One moment, he was sifting through the mess in his brain, and when he dove deep enough to see red, his breath caught in his throat, and the red expanded. Consumed. Touched every corner that it could possibly reach.

Those three words echoed endlessly in his head, slithering through sticky red webs. For a few moments, it was the only thing he could hear, but just like a song fading away as it finished, the voice quieted and in its place were the voices of his friends:

"Oh my god, what's wrong with him?"

"Takeru?!"

"Somebody get him some water. Now."

"Buddy. Teek. Hey, can you hear me?"

Gradually, and with great difficulty, Takeru opened his eyes.

The world was a bloody mess of red. Crimson threads hung from the ceiling, all the way to the floor. Attached to his body. Embedded in his skin. Takeru blinked dazedly, but they didn't fade.

With a meek groan, Takeru tried to pull on them. To get them to snap. To break the threads, to take control, to ruin the puppeteer's chance at manipulating his body and his mind.

Except his limbs were so weak. They stung and burned and ached, and pulling only made it worse. If he pulled too hard, would he bleed? Was he already bleeding? Takeru was too disoriented to tell.

"Takeru," came his brother's voice. "Takeru, hey, stop moving, you're going to reopen your wounds… Takeru. Takeru. Shh… stop. Hey. Can you hear me?"

"I can't remember," Takeru mumbled, feeling drugged. "I can't… I tried… I can't… remember… m'sorry… can't… something's wrong…"

He blinked over and over as if trying to dispel tears from his eyes, and finally, finally, the threads retreated into the confines of his mind. Fell from the ceiling and escaped back into the place which they'd come, causing his whole body to slacken bonelessly onto the floor.

Another blink, and another. Eventually, the fuzzy outline of Yamato's mortified face became clear.

"Nii-san?" he murmured. Or maybe he hadn't spoken aloud. Maybe it was a simple, desperate thought. He couldn't be certain.

"It's gone again," Yamato stated in a breathless whisper. Repeated, "Takeru?"

Groggy and dizzy, Takeru gazed up at his brother and attempted to figure out what actually happened. The image of the red threads lingered in his brain like a bad aftertaste, and he couldn't focus on anything else.

"...Nightmare Syndrome…"

A door clicked. Somebody said, "Here."

Takeru couldn't exactly sit up, and if he wasn't so disoriented, he would have been embarrassed of the fact that he needed his brother's help, but at the moment he could only be grateful.

"Nii-san?" Takeru whispered again. "M'sorry… I tried my best…"

"No. Hey, kiddo," Yamato said firmly. "Don't worry about that. Ok? Drink some water."

Something damp and warm touched his face. Takeru glanced hazily to his right, catching a glimpse of Hikari's troubled, distraught face.

"But why…" The cup of water was brought to his lips, and Takeru had never before felt so grateful for something to quench his thirst. For something to drown all the beasts inside him. To wash away the cobwebs in his brain.

As he drank, he was able to reach for the cup all on his own, and his throat stung in protest as he finished off every last drop.

"M'sorry," Takeru repeated. "I…. I don't know what happened…"

Someone took the cup. Koushiro said, "Do you need more?"

Takeru didn't want to be greedy. His intention was to politely decline, but instead, "Please?"

"I'll get it for him," Mimi said.

Takeru watched, still a little dizzy, as Koushiro hummed and handed the cup off to Mimi. As she left the room.

"Why…" He had no idea why his voice was so hoarse. Why his whole body burned, from head to toe. "...why did you need to know about… the forest?"

"Forget that," Yamato said. "I should be taking you home."

"You need to focus on recovering," Gabumon said.

"But you promised," Takeru argued—or, more accurately, croaked—with a feeble, but stubborn look.

"That was before you fainted," Yamato said.

"You dropped so fast…" Patamon trailed off anxiously.

"I think Gabumon's right," Jou said. "You should try to relax."

"If he needs to rest, we can go without you two and update you later," Ken suggested.

"I think that's a good idea," Sora said. "He should rest."

"We can totally send messages to keep you updated," Daisuke said.

"No!"

The word came out before Takeru even knew why he was so persistent, and surprised everyone in the room, himself included. Nonetheless, Takeru gazed back at his brother, feeling achy and weak but still determined to figure out what, exactly, was going on—with his brother, with his friends, with himself.

"My head's… weird," Takeru admitted. "I… I don't know what's going on, but… but I have this feeling… something's wrong, Nii-san, and I can't figure it out unless you talk to me."

A pause. It seemed the group still hadn't recovered from Takeru's outburst because all of them were silent. Reluctant. Uneasy. It wasn't until Mimi returned with a second cup of water—which Takeru readily accepted—that Yamato finally spoke.

"Ok… alright, Teek. Just… just don't do that again." A shaky sigh. "You freaked me out."

I'm freaking me out.

Takeru didn't have the energy to apologize, but he didn't dare say that out loud. Then Yamato went on, "...you know I'd never purposely keep things from you to hurt you, right?"

"And none of us would do that, either," Hikari was hasty to add.

Takeru hummed and nodded. Took a sip of his water and rested a bandaged hand on Hikari's knee in silent comfort.

"Ok," Yamato repeated. "You've been… talking, and doing things at night. Do you remember?"

Takeru lowered his cup and blinked. "...what do you mean, 'talking and doing things'?"

"In… in your sleep." Yamato sighed again, like recalling the memory was an unpleasant—painful, even—experience for him. "It makes sense that you don't remember."

"Like… sleepwalking?"

"Mm-hm."

At first, Takeru was just surprised. And then, slowly, humiliation crept into his body, followed by dread. Whispered in horror, "...I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"

A snort. A giggle. Even Hikari looked ready to smile.

"Never mind," Takeru said. "Don't answer that. I don't want to know. I don't need to live with the shame."

"I mean, mood," Miyako said, right as Yamato said, "No, no, Teek. Nothing like that."

Takeru sagged with relief. The dread and humiliation remained. "Then… then what?"

"You tried to run out of the apartment," Yamato told him, swallowing. "And you were… you were screaming. Like something was hurting you. And you said that someone was chasing you in the forest, and… and you kept saying…"

A pause. Shame sat heavy and uncomfortable on his shoulders, and suddenly he wished that he'd accepted Jou's suggestion to talk in private. Not only was this knowledge new to him, but all of his friends were present.

"You told me it wasn't embarrassing," Takeru mumbled.

It was childish. Perhaps that was why Yamato didn't respond to his comment. Or maybe it was because he still looked dreadfully uneasy.

"...what else did he say?" Iori prompted gently.

"Yeah, we kind of have to know now," Miyako said, though her voice was quiet as well. "You're leaving us in suspense."

Yamato didn't even roll his eyes. Didn't react to Miyako's jest at all, like she hadn't even spoken. Distantly: "...the door was locked. So when you tried leaving the apartment and couldn't, you were… scratching at the door. Banging on it. And you kept screaming about how dark it was, and that… that you wanted someone to let you out."

He paused, eyes finding one of Takeru's hands. Takeru's fingers twitched underneath the weight of his gaze, and he looked down again in shame.

"That must have been awful," Mimi said sympathetically.

"...are you sure you don't remember?" Hikari murmured hesitantly, face pale as she looked at him with open worry.

"I…" Despite downing two decently-sized cups of water, he felt as though he'd been thirsty for hours with no relief. "...no…"

"It makes sense," Yamato went on quietly. Hollowly. "I read that kids don't remember episodes of sleepwalking."

"I've read about that, too," Jou admitted, just as quietly.

"I'm sorry, Nii-san," Takeru said, and it was as if the beasts inside him hadn't been tamed or dealt with at all. Guilt and anxiety swamped him, and he felt extremely selfish for asking Yamato to talk when it was obviously so difficult for him.

"No, it's not your fault," Yamato said.

"But I must have kept you up," Takeru persisted. "You lost sleep because of me…"

"It really does sound like a rough night," Daisuke said.

"That's not what I'm worried about, Teek," Yamato murmured. "It's just… look at your hands, and… and your eyes…"

Takeru's bruised, beaten heart dropped like somebody jumping from a cliff, and he wasn't sure if it'd survive the fall after taking so much damage. His eyes widened in terror. "...what about my eyes?"

"Were they like…" Hikari trailed off, like she was almost afraid to ask.

"Yeah." It was Patamon who answered, and unlike Yamato—whose gaze had dropped to his lap as he retold his story—his eyes captured Takeru's, brimming with sadness and distress. "They were so red."

Red.

Red, like the threads that hung from the ceiling like tiny nooses. Red, like the bloody tint that had covered the room merely ten minutes ago. Red…

"Like the eyes of Mirrormon's servants when he summons them," Koushiro murmured, half in awe, and half in fear. "...does that mean—?"

"Koushiro, you finish that sentence and I'll kill you," Yamato hissed, so wrathfully and venomously that it didn't sound like his brother at all.

He'd gone stiff like a doll, and Takeru's body reacted in a similar fashion: everything in him froze. His blood. His organs. His muscles. His bones. He felt irrevocably, agonizingly cold, and all the damage that had been inflicted upon him by the war of the beasts was stuck in disrepair with no way to recover.

Who, after all, could fully recover in the bloody aftermath of a war?

The silence was impossibly heavy, and even though Koushiro stopped talking as soon as Yamato's threat came out, it seemed everyone knew what he was about to say.

Everyone, including Takeru.

"Oh," Takeru breathed out faintly. It was a surprise he could speak at all. "I…"

He, what? He didn't know. He didn't remember. He couldn't do anything but sit helplessly as he burdened his brother and his friends.

"Do you think…" Iori hedged abruptly, although hesitantly. "...that you were stuck underground? When you said you were dark and trapped?"

It'd been directed toward Takeru, but he couldn't respond. That same feeling of crippling isolation washed over him again. Like he was staring at his friends from a place where they couldn't see or hear him.

Yamato's body was so tense. Like every muscle was pulled taut and ready to snap. "I thought that, too."

"I wondered as well," Jou admitted softly.

"What does that mean, though?" Daisuke asked, sounding terrified and uncertain. "If… if Mirrormon did something to Takeru?"

Another grim, suffocating silence. No one could provide an answer.

Takeru still didn't say anything. He was frozen but his mind raced still, but the crimson web crafted so carefully in his brain caught every thought. Every possible explanation. Every question. He couldn't think properly. Everything clustered together in knots, growing bigger and bigger until the weight of it threatened to crack his skull.

He couldn't stop, sort, or rationalize anything. Instead, he was forced to wait until the puppeteer came out to deal with the chaos, or until someone else could save him from this awful, excoriating fate.

"I found you."

Mirrormon certainly did find him, and… and Takeru didn't know what he planned to do with him.

Ch 12 || Imprint

In the wake of their new—though unconfirmed—discovery, Takeru felt numb.

Perhaps the war inside him had caused so much damage that he could no longer feel it. Perhaps it had become so intense that his brain decided to disconnect. Dissociate. Locate every last part of him that was scared. Shut it off.

Or maybe… maybe he hadn't done it. He wasn't really in control. Maybe someone else had found that switch and flipped it for him.

Maybe that someone was Mirrormon.

They had no way of knowing, but all of his friends had seen the red in his eyes. Takeru himself viewed the world through a red lens and it had taken so long for it to fade.

But what… what did it even mean?

"Takeru, are you sure you want to come?" Yamato repeated, like he was waiting for Takeru to decline so they could head home. "It'll be risky."

"I know," Takeru said. "But… we can't just run away from this. If we go and talk to the digimon… maybe we'll find out something."

"Something good, hopefully," Miyako said.

Yamato narrowed his eyes. "Not helping."

"She's right, though," Takeru said.

"We won't know until we go," Hikari pointed out, though she looked just as uneasy as Yamato did. "You don't feel sick or anything?"

"I'll be alright. Besides, we're just going to talk to the digimon, right?"

"That's the plan," Taichi said. "If… if Mirrormon is really behind this, then… I think it's best that we find out what the other digimon found just so we can have time to digest it."

"I think that's a good idea," Iori added. "Depending on what they discovered, it could be another clue for us to think about."

"Hopefully, none of them are in any trouble," Sora fretted.

"It really sucks that Mirrormon can't just come out of hiding," Daisuke said with a groan. "I mean, it's not like we're prepared to face him but I am so tired of just sitting around and waiting!"

"Believe me, you're not alone," Taichi said. "It's kind of a helpless feeling."

"And dreadful," Mimi added.

"Not to mention, it'd be nice to get back to, you know, life," Miyako said.

Takeru swallowed as he realized they made very valid points. Yamato had basically put his life on hold—they'd been to, what? One band practice in the past two weeks?—while Takeru settled into his home. He'd selfishly soaked up most of his brother's time, and the fact that he was a potential target for Mirrormon only took more time. And his parents…

He was starting to grow close to his father—he'd spent more time with him in the past few weeks than he had for most of the year, and it was so wonderful.

The hurt that stemmed from his mother's impulsive decision to leave Odaiba was starting to fade, though it still lingered enough for him to dread a conversation with her. She was moving soon—and the days were going by so quickly. Shutting her out was childish and… and cruel.

Mirrormon and moving into Yamato and his father's place had occupied so much of his time and his thoughts. By the time he made up his mind about whether or not he was still mad, would… would it be too late?

She was his mother, after all. Even if her choices and her absence in his life stung deeply, he still loved her. And Kobe was so far away… by the time he made a decision, she'd be too far out of reach.

Just like Mirrormon.

The numbness remained and yet tiny remnants of fear slipped past the wall of apathy. Leaked through like little drops of water. Cold. Phantomlike. It truly was an awful, apprehensive feeling—knowing something was out there, ready to strike, but not knowing where or when.

"We'll figure it out," Sora reassured with a tiny smile. "We always do."

"Yeah," Takeru murmured hollowly.

Usually, Takeru would find anything that resembled optimism and leech onto it. He was the embodiment of hope, after all. But the image of his brain-turned-spiderweb and whatever hid in its depths stole every last drop.

Yamato rested a hand on his shoulder. "We will, Takeru. We'll figure this out and we'll find Mirrormon. And when we find him, I'm gonna beat the snot out of him for messing with my brother."

That did it. Takeru giggled softly. Hoarsely. Yamato said it so firmly, so confidently, so boldly, like he didn't care that they were in a room full of people and Mirrormon wasn't a seemingly indestructible, emotionless monster who could squash any human with a snap of his fingers. No shame lingered in his voice. No fear.

Only absolute certainty. Conviction. Like it was a simple task that he'd have no trouble completing.

"Nii-san… you'd get hurt."

"Nah."

"You would," Takeru persisted, although with a ghost of a smile this time. "He's merciless."

"You forgot one thing, kiddo," Yamato said. "So am I."

The sudden ice in Yamato's voice was enough to make Takeru glance at him, but Yamato was already moving. Said without looking over his shoulder, "Gabumon. Let's get this over with."

"Right," Gabumon said after a moment's pause.

"You ready?" Hikari whispered, still close to him.

Yamato… Yamato was serious. At first, Takeru had wondered if he was joking—taking on a digimon was a death sentence, and they all knew that. But that voice… and the detached, haunted undertone in his voice as he told Takeru the story of his nightly episodes…

Yamato hadn't made a joke. He'd made a vow.

"Takeru?" Hikari pressed.

"I'm ready," he said. Echoed, "Let's get this over with."

Do you hear that, Mirrormon? he challenged mentally, as if Mirrormon was able to hear him somehow. You can't win. I can't give up. Not when Nii-san's determined like this.

Koushiro pulled up the portal, setting the code to open it as naturally and swiftly as one would open a regular door. Patamon perched himself on Takeru's head, tensing in anticipation.

As bright light and digital code burst out of Koushiro's laptop to swallow them whole, Takeru swore he heard what sounded like maniacal laughter.

Aside from Kuwagamon, four other digimon were hidden within the depths of the tunnel. Tailmon reported that it was much longer than she'd expected, so all of them going down to investigate for themselves was unlikely, unless they wanted to be down there for hours.

Armadillomon told them that the tunnel ended abruptly, like whoever was building it had been interrupted before they could finish. That meant they'd had to backtrack, but it at least gave them the chance to confirm the number of digimon found.

Still, it was mysterious, and it was unnerving. Takeru liked to believe that a little mystery in life could be fun—it gave him a puzzle to solve, and unexplained phenomena (including traveling to another dimension) had fascinated him from day one.

After all, how fun would learning be if they already had all the answers? Puzzles weren't fun when its solution was provided for you at the very start. That drained a mystery of its charm—robbed its allure. The tale of the unknown was something which many found addictive and mesmerizing, and Takeru liked diving deeper into things to explore what was hidden beyond what one could see. It was one of the reasons why he enjoyed cryptic literature so much.

This, however…

This mystery chilled him to the bone. It felt as if they were in way over their heads this time. This puzzle oozed danger and malevolence, and it promised to deliver answers in all the wrong ways—through fear, through rage, through morbid curiosity. Every clue only opened up room for more confusion. Like trying to locate a door in the dark, only able to rely on the sense of touch.

And there were so many doors they could open.

Doors that gave no hint as to what lay on the other side until it was too late.

Doors which could lead to many more puzzles—entire labyrinths so disorienting and chaotic that escape became impossible. Their clues were taunting, glaring reminders that they still had no idea how much more there was to figure out, or how much progress they'd already made.

Doors that sent them farther away from the exit, rather than toward it.

"That's such a strange combination," Koushiro said thoughtfully as Tailmon finished her explanation alongside V-mon, Armadillomon, and Tentomon. He tapped his chin as he echoed, "Kuwagamon, Floramon, Tyranamon, Crowmon, and Bakumon…"

Something in Takeru's brain twitched. Maybe the webs. Maybe the knots in his head, struggling to loosen. The name 'Bakumon' was familiar—but in such a way that Takeru couldn't tell where the line of memory and dream stood. Like the way childhood memories fade as the years pass and become little more than a ghost. Blurry, partial pieces of a picture. Tail-ends of conversations and thoughts.

And yet somehow he couldn't let it go—the same way certain scents, sounds, or sensations could bring him back into the past to relive experiences, fondly nostalgic and unsettling alike.

But just like the way a human's voice would startle a feral animal, when someone else spoke, the feeling of familiarity scattered and Takeru was left in a fog.

"Floramon is one of the digimon who used to occupy this village, right?" Ken asked.

"That's correct," Tentomon said.

"Hey, does that mean…" Hikari hedged, a ribbon of fear wrapped around her words. "...that one of the Floramon was forced to obey Mirromon?"

"That's so cruel," Mimi said with a shudder. "Imagine… how the other digimon must have felt, being betrayed by one of their own."

"Hey, wait a minute," Miyako chimed in. "If Floramon's down in that creepy tunnel… wouldn't that be where Mirrormon started?"

Iori blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Miyako persisted urgently, gesturing back to the mossy boulder that served as an inconspicuous entrance to the passageway. "This was Floramon's garden! Of course he'd start with a Floramon—to stay undetected while he planned his attack!"

"That would make sense," Jou said contemplatively. "But who knew how long Mirrormon had been in the village before he evolved? And how long he'd disguised himself as Floramon?"

"He could have been hiding for a while," Tailmon said with a grim expression.

"We don't really know how he was born, or how he got to this village in the first place," Taichi said. "He could have traveled somewhere else."

"Gennai did tell me he suspected this garden was his place of origin," Koushiro said. "We don't have a lot of evidence that proves his theory."

"All digimon start in the Village of Beginnings, don't they?" Mimi turned to Palmon. "How far away from there are we now?"

Palmon paused, almost as if she was gathering her concentration, but it was Koushiro who answered. He said, "I'm thankful I brought my laptop. We can use a map to calculate the distance."

"It's not anywhere close," Gomamon said. "We'd have to travel a bit to get there."

"He's right," Piyomon said. "It's not as simple as 'it's on the other side of the mountain'."

More digimon provided their input, and his friends continued to theorize where Mirrormon was born and how he ended up in the village—or, rather, what remained of Floramon's village—where they currently stood.

But Takeru was searching through to fog to find that strange, dreamlike memory that had prompted some tiny, instinctive part of his brain into action. His focus swiftly shifted to finding out the culprit of this sudden sensation, and without even meaning to, the ongoing conversation of his friends became quieter and quieter.

Bakumon… Bakumon…

Had he dreamt about that digimon before? That had to be it, right? He wished he had more information. The memory—assuming it was actually a memory—was so faint. And though Takeru had been pulled into his thoughts by curiosity, the sensation had disappeared and he didn't know how to get it back.

And he didn't know where it went.

It didn't take long for frustration seeped into his skin. As much as he hated the feeling of not knowing, Takeru hated the feeling of almost knowing even more. It was a terrible feeling—like trying to remember a word that was on the tip of his tongue, but no matter how much his brain worked, it refused to come back.

Bakumon, he thought again, almost experimentally. C'mon. I know that name. I know it.

And yet Takeru remained afraid to delve deeper into the depths of his mind. Didn't want to risk getting caught by crimson webs, suspended and rendered motionless, with nothing to do but wait until his predator arrived to collect its meal. Until the puppeteer came to claim its prize.

Those strings in Koushiro's apartment… it had been excruciating. Like the threads weren't even threads at all, but rather painful, sharp wires hooked painfully deep into his skin. It wouldn't be long before he was yanked up to do whatever the puppeteer commanded.

"I found you."

Takeru shuddered so violently that it caused rippling spasms up and down his body. Patamon whispered his name, but Takeru barely even heard it. Those words had been echoing distantly in his head since his episode at Koushiro's apartment, and he didn't know how to make it stop.

"Nightmare Syndrome."

That one was always a whisper—soft and deceptively gentle—ghosting deeply into his ear in a way no human could. Drifted past the red spiderweb with the lazy ease of an afternoon cloud. Effortless. Graceful.

Takeru struggled to hold onto something that would keep him grounded. All of a sudden, trying to figure out why Bakumon's name sounded familiar to him seemed like a bad idea. He didn't want to know where or when he'd heard of Bakumon. He didn't want to know why these voices kept bouncing around in his head.

He just wanted them to stop.

"I don't care where Mirrormon came from," Yamato's voice cut in abruptly. "We just need to know how to get rid of him."

A hand came down on his shoulder and Takeru jumped. He looked at the culprit with startled eyes and was met with deep pools of red-brown.

"Are you alright?" Hikari whispered. She hadn't left his side since they arrived in the digital world, and even Yamato seemed reluctant to leave him alone despite the fact that they were surrounded by trustworthy teammates and digimon.

"I—"

"What?" Yamato's head whirled around, all traces of venom gone and replaced with apprehension. "Takeru, did you feel something?"

Takeru wasn't sure how to word it. It wasn't like he was hearing voices—just the same thing, on repeat. He swallowed nervously anyway, his throat still uncomfortably dry even though he'd downed so much water at Koushiro's.

"Um…" His fists clenched and unclenched when the action stung, reminding him of his wounds.

Suddenly all eyes were on him and it was like they were in the middle of Koushiro's bedroom again, their attention glued to him. This time—

Wait a minute.

Takeru's gaze zeroed in Koushiro's laptop, eyes popping wide as an idea hit him. "Koushiro?"

Koushiro blinked perplexedly at being addressed so abruptly. "What is it?"

"Does… does your digimon database work like… a regular search engine?" he asked. "Can I search… a digimon's attack?"

For a moment, Koushiro appeared stunned, but he seemed to recover swiftly. "If one of us has seen a digimon and it's been registered in our digivice, then I suppose we could try."

A spark of hope ignited in Takeru's heart. He didn't have his d-terminal, but he did have his digivice.

"Why do you ask?"

"Nightmare Syndrome."

"Bakumon…" Takeru trailed off, struggling to come up with the right words. "...I don't know if I'm imagining it? I just… can I see your computer for a moment? Please?"

"Oh my gosh, that's actually brilliant," Mimi said. "If he's seen Bakumon, his digivice would… register it, right?"

"Right," Koushiro said with a quick nod.

"I found you."

"And if it shows up on his digivice," Sora added, "then… that would mean he might have run into him in the forest, wouldn't it?"

"And that could be the Bakumon from underground," Piyomon said. "Meaning… Mirrormon might be behind it?"

"It's possible," Armidillomon said.

"Have you ever seen Bakumon, Teek?" Yamato asked as Koushiro brought Takeru his laptop.

"Nightmare Syndrome."

"Not that… that I remember?" Takeru answered hesitantly. "But… something's off. I can't explain it."

"May I see your digivice, Takeru?" Koushiro asked.

Swallowing the new lump in his throat, Takeru handed it over and Koushiro inserted the device into the small port at the top of his keyboard the way one would insert a cartridge into a game console. They both sank to the ground, almost unknowingly, and a large huddle formed around them: Yamato, Tailmon, Patamon, Gabumon, and Hikari were closest to them; while everyone else squeezed in behind them.

"I found you."

The database didn't take that long to load, and automatically, it transferred the data from Takeru's D3 to his computer. It'd been a long time since they'd upgraded the database with everyone's digivices—not to mention, it took a while back then to figure out since the younger kids' digivices were a different, newer model—so, inevitably, they had to wait for the database to catch up with Takeru's encounters.

"Nightmare Syndrome."

While they waited, Takeru wanted to move. Fidget, scratch, bounce his leg—something to ease his anxiety. Even if… if Takeru did see Bakumon in the past, how would they know if it was the same Bakumon?

Mirrormon never showed up.

Bakumon did.

Takeru's breath was held captive in his throat as the image of a tapir-like digimon loaded on Koushiro's screen, pixel by pixel. Everything in him—the web, the destruction, the echoing voices, even the part of his body that reacted to the pain in his hands—fell mute and unnoticed.

Along with Bakumon's picture was a small description of Bakumon's appearance, type, attributes, and attacks.

"I'm reading that, right?" Takeru whispered to no one in particular, and when no one replied, he repeated somewhat desperately, "Right?"

"Which part, Takeru?" Patamon asked.

"One of his attacks is called 'Nightmare Syndrome'."

"I see it, too," Yamato said in a low voice.

"It is one of his attacks," Gabumon confirmed. "Usually, Bakumon are gentle digimon who…"

"Everyone time one of you says a digimon is a good digimon and wouldn't harm a fly, we get attacked," Jou said with a fretful undertone.

"He usually is," Gabumon persisted. "But under the influence of Mirrormon's control…"

"Wait a minute," Miyako interrupted. "I know that digimon. He was around Digitamamon's restaurant! When I summoned my digi-egg!"

Iori gasped. "I remember him, too. He was serving food, wasn't he?"

"I think so," Hikari murmured. "So… of course you've seen it. We were there when Miyako found the digi-egg."

"It must have been a fleeting encounter if you don't remember," Wormmon said gently to Takeru.

Ken hummed. "Not to mention, it was a few years ago…"

Takeru deflated, that spark of hope dying as he expelled a breath of frustration. The memory was faint enough that it explained his feeling of deja vu. "Right."

"Hold on a minute," Koushiro said, scrolling on his computer. "That was years ago. This encounter… it wouldn't have shown up if it wasn't recent. Sometimes the same digimon will run twice on this program, if it's been a while since the last time Takeru's D3 was synced with the database. Especially if new data has been collected on the digimon."

"What does that mean, then?" Yamato said, looking between Koushiro and Takeru.

"I found you."

Koushiro turned to Takeru with a solemn expression, rather than Yamato. "It means that you must have encountered Bakumon recently, and something about this Bakumon was different from the one you met in the past."

"Something, meaning…?" Taichi hedged, before continuing hastily, "Hold on… Takeru, why did that attack stand out to you?"

Takeru looked back at the screen, scrambling to remember. Everything that had traveled to the back of his mind while this revelation unfolded in front of them suddenly seemed so much more present and heavy.

"Nightmare Syndrome."

"I found you."

"Nightmare Syndrome."

"—is it you are searching?"

"I found you."

"—your name?"

"I found you."

"—out of this forest—"

"I found you."

"I found you."

"I found you."

The words swirled around ceaselessly within the confines of Takeru's skull. Painful. Disorienting. They were so daunting and foreboding that it dizzied him. Made his body quake like the ground during the onset of a stampede.

"—keru?"

They were all gazing at him expectantly, and Yamato in particular looked petrified. Swallowing with difficulty, Takeru croaked out, "D-does anyone have any water?"

"I do," Sora answered tenderly, slowly. "If drinking after me doesn't bother you?"

"We should have all brought them," Jou fretted.

Takeru shook his head no, and part of him felt guilty for taking someone else's source of hydration, but right as Takeru opened his mouth to say he changed his mind, the bottle was being passed up to him.

"Here," Hikari whispered as it was handed to her, and repeated once more, "Are you ok?"

"It's… it's in my head," Takeru said quietly, almost embarrassed to say it aloud.

Yamato leaned in closer to him. "What did you say?"

Takeru unscrewed the cap of Sora's water bottle, took a grateful drink, careful not to be too greedy. This wasn't his water, after all. His throat throbbed in protest when he lowered the bottle and said in a louder voice, "I hear it in my head, sometimes. Not like, a voice in my head, but… but it's just always the same thing, like… like a memory?"

"You hear what?" Gabumon asked. "The name of that attack?"

"Nightmare Syndrome," Takeru echoed with a tiny nod. "Every time I… I try to think about the forest, it happens."

"...why didn't you tell me?" Yamato asked him.

Me. Not 'us'. The hurt in his brother's voice had been near-undetectable, but Takeru had spent years reading people. If he didn't, he wouldn't know much about his brother at all.

"I was going to," Takeru said hastily. "I just… wanted to see what we found out here first. I wasn't trying to keep it a secret."

Hikari rested her hand on his knee. "We believe you, Takeru."

"Hang on," Tailmon said, her voice soft but urgent. "...you hear that, in your head?"

It made him feel crazy. The way they kept asking for clarification. Made him feel silly. Struggling not to shrink in on himself, Takeru forced himself to meet Tailmon's calculating blue gaze. "...I did, yeah."

"I think that means we're in trouble," came Gomamon's voice.

"Gomamon," Palmon hissed. "You're going to scare them."

"Actually, he's right," Tentomon said.

"Why?" Yamato snapped. "What does it mean? We don't have time for sugar-coating."

The digimon went grimly quiet for several heartbeats. The group of Chosen were silent as well, waiting anxiously for an explanation. Yamato was tense next to Takeru, and Hikari had yet to remove her hand from Takeru's knee.

"...Bakumon is a holy digimon," Gabumon said eventually, finally, gravely. "Usually, he is meant to soothe those whose sleep has been disturbed by nightmares and other such things. He helps others sleep peacefully. But an unholy Bakumon, corrupted by evil and greed…"

He trailed off as all the digimon made their way to the middle of the group, where Koushiro and Takeru presently sat, and looked as if he was struggling to continue.

Tailmon, however, suffered no such handicap. "...he steals the good dreams and traps the victim in an endless nightmare."

"But that doesn't make sense," Daisuke blurted out. "Takeru's awake!"

"Yeah, but not all the time," Hikari said somewhat ominously.

"There was that one time…" Agumon added.

"Right, it was like he was asleep," Sora murmured, catching on to something Takeru didn't understand.

Takeru's frustration grew and hissed and crackled like a fire beneath his skin. "What?"

Yamato, if possible, stiffened even more. "Are you guys talking about…?"

"Talking about what?"

Hikari glanced at him, all nerves and sympathy. "We aren't trying to leave you out on purpose. It's just… when you fell, you didn't remember."

"And… you told me yesterday, that it was like you were asleep," Yamato said, voice barely above a whisper.

Takeru tried with much difficulty to breathe normally and ignore the hot, hot frustration that threatened to burn him alive from the inside. Wished he could aim it up, up, up to his brain, so the web could be destroyed. So his connection to the puppeteer would be severed.

Yesterday… had been so fuzzy. The day had flown by, and most of it felt like a dream. But not a good dream—a dream that stripped him of his perception of time, and he couldn't even remember it.

Above the fire, as if threatened by the very emotions that Takeru struggled to tame, the web shuddered. That same twitch from earlier returned, and with it came blurry silhouettes and scattered conversations.

Gabumon called Bakumon a holy digimon.

"That does sound familiar," he said out loud. "Bakumon being a holy digimon."

"Perhaps… Bakumon, while being manipulated by Mirrormon, used his attack to put you under a spell?" Koushiro suggested.

"Well… if Takeru saw Bakumon recently," Iori began, "and Bakumon's body is underground in an unresponsive state, then that means he's one of Mirrormon's puppets."

"But… what about Mirrormon?" Ken asked, brave enough to voice the question all of them had been thinking. "Where is he?"

The web shuddered again. Hesitantly, Takeru dared to think further back, wondering how much time he had before it became stable again. Before the strings came back to claim his body.

Along with the twitch in his brain came an unsettling, foreboding feeling, like someone was watching him. Someone who was still waiting for the right moment to pounce, to latch onto him and take over his body the way a parasite overtook its host.

He didn't want to accept it. Refused to. But this parasite, this spider, this puppeteer who left all of them scrambling to put together its clues—whatever it was, it had to be related to Mirrormon somehow. They had collected evidence that Mirrormon could very likely be the culprit.

Mirrormon, who knew how to effortlessly manipulate other digimon to his will.

Mirrormon, who always disappeared while controlling another digimon, and had mysteriously vanished now.

Mirrormon, whose transcendent, malicious red eyes transferred to the gazes of his victims—almost like an imprint. A signature. An irrefutable mark that said, without any room for an argument, "This belongs to me."

And yet… when Takeru opened his mouth, he mentioned none of this. Instead, he simply murmured, "That's a good question."

Ch 13 || In Limbo

Yamato was not in a good mood.

It was bad enough that no one could agree on their priority. And it was bad enough that his brother was heavily involved to the point that it put him at risk. What they didn't need was to just stick around and come up with theories unless it directly led to Mirrormon's place of hiding or a way to defeat him.

Takeru looked so anxious that it made Yamato anxious. He wanted nothing more than to beat Mirrormon into the ground until he was dead and bleeding.

These past few weeks had been stressful enough, even without Mirrormon's mysterious appearance and disappearance. The last thing he and Takeru needed was another expected surprise.

"...what do we do now?" Mimi asked, a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. "We still don't know where Mirrormon is, and we don't have definitive proof that he's the one who brought all those digimon to the tunnel."

"Who else would it be?" Jou said.

"As if I know," Mimi said with a pointed look. "I'm just making a statement."

"I think she's right, actually," Ken said, a little timidly. "We have all these clues, but only a way or two to connect them together without confirmation."

"And it's not like Mirrormon was down in that cave," V-mon said. "We looked for him, too."

"Hang on," Hikari said and looked at Tailmon. "You wouldn't… mind going down there again, would you?"

Tailmon blinked. "No, I wouldn't mind. Why?"

"I should've brought my camera. So you could take pictures."

"Why would we need pictures?" Daisuke asked with a baffled expression.

Yamato's brow twitched in irritation. It took a lot of self-control not to just grab Takeru's wrist and storm off. They were once again in the middle of a scorched garden and everything about it oozed danger and suffering.

"For comparison," Hikari persisted, scanning the group with her gaze. "It might be a long shot, but… but maybe we could compare them to the digimon we've seen in the past on the database and see if there's anything that could link them to Mirrormon?"

"That's an excellent idea," Koushiro praised. "When you get the pictures and—"

"Ok, ok, yeah, pictures and Mirrormon and crap," Yamato snapped. "Another waiting game. Can we go?"

"Nii-san…" Takeru hedged.

It was taking all he had not to explode. Everyone was stunned in the wake of his outburst, but Yamato didn't even have the self-control to stop. He presently lacked the capacity to admit that yeah, his friends were doing their best, and yelling wasn't going to make it better.

Because everything was so unequivocally wrong. Something was looming over his brother—something inherently sinister and ominous, something that was simultaneously right in front of their faces and borderline undetectable. He was so tired of playing such childish games with Mirrormon. What if they went home now, only to be dragged back here tomorrow?

Yamato was done. He was tired.

"Takeru, you haven't said a word in the past ten minutes, now," he went on, and the anger inside him seemed to come from a limitless source. He could slow it down, but he could never completely rid himself of it. "I can see it on your face that you'd rather go home. If some of you want to stay here, fine. Be my guest. But unless someone has a concrete way to track down Mirrormon so I can put an end to him, then it's time for me to leave."

No one responded right away. Yamato's fingernails were digging so hard into his palms that he was in danger of breaking the skin and drawing blood, but he didn't care.

"Do you really want to go home, Takeru?" Sora asked softly.

Takeru wouldn't meet her eyes. He stared shamefully at the ground, like requesting to leave during their discussion was considered taboo. Mumbled, "I made such a big deal out of not getting to come. It feels silly to leave first."

"Honestly, you two have been through a lot," Taichi said quietly, with a long-suffering sigh. "I don't blame you for wanting to leave."

"Go on," Hikari whispered. "We'll tie up things here. I'll text you later, ok?"

Still, Takeru refused to look at anyone. Only offered a meek nod of acknowledgment. Gone was the spark of fierce determination and in its place was a timid, shell of a boy. It only made Yamato's skin itch more with frustration, rage, and the unsettling, foreboding feeling that staying here was only going to stir up whatever entity that clung to Takeru like a shadow.

"C'mon, kiddo," Yamato said, his tone softer this time as he slid an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Let's go."

Koushiro closed out of the database and returned Takeru's digivice to him, and wordlessly, he pulled up the portal. The rest of them stepped back to give them space and Koushiro asked where they'd like to go.

"Our apartment, preferably," Yamato answered gruffly. "Can you find a connection?"

A few clicks and taps. Koushiro hummed. "Yes, I see one."

Good. Yamato didn't even care to know the source of the connection—he just wanted to get himself and Takeru out of here as fast as possible.

"Wait, Takeru," came Hikari's hasty voice.

Yamato's brow twitched. The only reason he didn't whirl around to snap at her was because she was Hikari. But she didn't make them wait long—she stumbled forward and right into Takeru's back, pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades, effectively separating the two brothers and wrapping her arms around Takeru's torso.

It was like someone flipped a switch. Takeru became deathly still for only a heartbeat, and then he melted into the embrace. Rested his hands on her arms. The tension in his body evaporated like steam.

"You be safe, ok?" Hikari murmured, sounding a little choked up. "Don't you dare do anything reckless trying to figure out this Mirrormon thing. You'll have your brother and me on your case about it."

Takeru chuckled weakly—a froggy sound, uncharacteristic of Takeru, but still Yamato considered it laughter nonetheless. "Understood."

"Good."

If things hadn't been so tense, and if he wasn't already painfully aware that Takeru thrived on physical affection, it would have been an open invitation to a teasing war. Hikari's friendship was something Yamato knew Takeru held dear, and he wasn't going to disrespect that by jestful remarks.

"I'll see you later," Takeru promised. "You stay safe, too."

Hikari pulled away, wiping her eyes with her thumbs. "Got it."

Takeru's hand clenched around his D3 and Koushiro cleared his throat. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Takeru said. "Nii-san?"

Slowly, Yamato's hand came down on Takeru's head to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Ready."

Even if they weren't, the pull of the digital portal wasn't going to give them a choice. One moment they were standing in the blackened remains of a once-elegant village and the next they were stumbling dizzily onto their apartment floor.

"Wh-wha—boys?!"

Trapped in a haze of disorientation that he knew wasn't going to fade until at least a minute or so, Yamato just groaned and slumped happily into the floor. It seemed Takeru and their partners, though, had more grace than him, for Takeru giggled sheepishly. Said, "H-hi, Dad."

"Good afternoon, Ishida-san," Gabumon added timidly.

"Hi, Takeru's dad," Patamon chirped.

"I forgot," Yamato muttered. "You're working from home today?"

"Well, that was the plan, yes," their father said, sounding like he was struggling to collect himself. "That is, until I set my laptop on the table and my two sons jumped out of the screen."

Yamato's phone buzzed successively in his pocket—it was a wonder it hadn't fallen out of his pocket with all that had happened today. Yamato pushed himself off the floor, grumbling to himself.

"Well," Takeru persisted, dragging out the word as he scratched his cheek nervously, "we were supposed to go to Koushiro's with the others, but we ended up here."

A tiny white lie. And a convincing one at that, considering not even five minutes ago, Takeru was a hollow version of himself. Now it was like none of that happened.

Takeru was really getting too comfortable with pretending.

Their father sighed, but he sounded more amused than anything. "I suppose I can't ask for a warning next time, can I?"

"Considering we don't even get much of one ourselves, I guess not," Yamato said.

"Nii-san, you did say you were ready," Takeru teased.

"He has a point," Patamon said.

Yamato just settled for grumbling under his breath again, and when the room finally stopped spinning, he said, "You hungry, bud?"

It was then that Takeru's chirpy mask faltered a little. "Nah."

Their father frowned. "Neither of you ate before we left. Did you eat at your friends' place?"

Both boys fell quiet, as did the two digimon. Their silence served as an answer itself, it seemed, because their dad sighed again.

"I'm ordering something," he said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his phone.

"Dad," the boys chorused, but while Takeru looked ready to argue, Yamato closed his mouth because no matter what Takeru said, they had to eat something, and Yamato wasn't sure if he had the energy to cook, mentally or physically.

And… and sure, his father wasn't perfect, but he wasn't stupid. He was there during and after Takeru's episode, and he was there when the first one occurred. He allowed Takeru to move in—not that Yamato was going to let him say no, but that was beside the point—and he knew how stressful it had been on the two brothers.

He knew Yamato was exhausted. And whether Takeru wanted to admit it or not, he was exhausted, too. The stress on their shoulders was heavy and parasitic, and they couldn't ignore it for much longer.

And so Yamato let it be. He sagged gratefully against Gabumon, who supported him without question. When they decided on what to order, their father left the room, and Yamato turned to his brother. "Takeru."

"That's your 'we need to talk' voice," Takeru said.

"Because we do," Yamato said solemnly. Quietly. "We don't have to right now. But you… you don't have to pretend everything's fine. You don't have to act like you're ok if you're not."

Takeru looked at him and sighed. "I'm trying… to stay optimistic."

"And that's a good trait to have, trust me," Yamato said gently. "But kiddo… you're gonna break if you keep it up."

"I'm not even doing that good of a job, though, huh?"

The statement was accompanied by a string of laughter. Humorless. Self-deprecating. Scratchy. Like Takeru was mad at himself for disappointing someone when he hadn't.

"I think you're doing the best you can," Patamon praised.

"But you shouldn't have to carry it alone," Gabumon added.

"I'm making everyone worry," Takeru mumbled.

"They are just worried about you because they care."

"That includes me," Yamato said. "It's not healthy to keep things inside."

Takeru's gaze fell upon the floor. "I wake you up at night."

"We're figuring that out, kiddo."

"But what if we don't? Everyone's worried and I keep waking you up at night and scaring you and maybe—maybe it would be better if I stayed with… with mom."

His voice broke. Their mother was still a touchy subject, and he was curling into himself as he spoke. Yamato replied without even thinking.

"I want you here."

No response.

"Takeru," he repeated. "Look at me. I want you here. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be healthy, and I worry because of those things."

"...y-yeah?"

"Yeah." Yamato's tone was quiet but firm. "I'm your brother. I'm gonna always want the best for you, you know that, right?"

"...you're not annoyed that you can't sleep?"

"I'm annoyed with Mirrormon that you can't sleep."

"...Nii-san."

"I am," Yamato persisted. "I'm gonna knock his teeth out."

"Nii-san," Takeru repeated.

"I don't care if he doesn't even have teeth. I'm going to destroy him one day, do you hear me?"

"Nii-san—hey. Nii-san."

"And I know that you don't want—"

"Nii-san, listen, please?"

Yamato closed his mouth upon hearing Takeru's desperate tone, and barely seconds later, Takeru was crawling over to him and leaning on Gabumon's other side. Patamon climbed into Takeru's lap.

"I… I appreciate you being concerned," he said finally, sincerely. "Really. And it means a lot, knowing you'll fight for me. But… I think I'll be ok. When Hikari hugged me, I felt… I dunno, like my head was clearer all of a sudden. And we came here and I feel… different."

Yamato took a moment to process his brother's words, mulling them over. Echoed, "Different?"

"It's hard to explain. Ever since… we met Mirrormon, I…" Takeru bit his lip as he stared at the ground, hesitant. Uncertain. "I dunno. Just like… something's changed. I don't feel like me."

That could have meant a lot of things. It could have meant a lot of bad things, and Yamato didn't even know where to start. But then Takeru looked up at him with a small, yet hopeful smile.

"Something's changed again, but it's a… a good change, I think," Takeru finished.

Once again, Yamato fell silent. Maybe… maybe Yamato being on-edge was just making things worse, but who could blame him? Takeru's behavior was not normal, and… and he hadn't stayed long enough earlier to know if his dad had called their mom. Things were still up in the air.

"I trust your judgment, Takeru," Patamon said, snuggling into the crook of Takeru's knee.

"We'll be here to keep you safe," Gabumon vowed.

Takeru's smile widened. Melted into something fond and grateful. Then his gaze found Yamato, and he gave him a meaningful look. "That's why I don't want to be worried. We'll fight this together, right? Like we always do."

"Like we always do," Patamon chirped.

Yamato gazed deeply into Takeru's eyes. Searched and searched, trying to find a sliver of red. A thread to grab onto and pull, just to find out what it was and where it came from. Wanted it to leave Takeru alone because whatever it was, it didn't belong there.

No red. Just brilliant blue, swimming with warmth and trust and affection. The tension in Yamato's eased.

Instead, Yamato smiled down at him—just a twitch of the lips—and echoed, "Like we always do."

It was then that their father stepped back out into the room, pocketing his phone. "I'm gonna go pick up our order. Do you boys want to come, or will you be ok by yourselves?"

Yamato closed his eyes with a sigh. "I think I'm fine right here."

Takeru chuckled. "I think we'll be ok, Dad."

"We're here to keep them safe," Gabumon repeated with a gentle smile.

Their dad nodded before grabbing his wallet and keys off the table. The two brothers watched him leave, and when he was gone, Yamato just slumped to the floor again. This time, Takeru followed him, leaning back with a sigh.

"Let's take it easy for the day, yeah?" Yamato murmured into the floor.

Takeru hummed. "Yeah."

The rest of the evening, thankfully, passed with ease; and much to Yamato's surprise, slumber came just as easily to him that night. He thought he'd have trouble going to sleep, because while his body was exhausted, his mind certainly wasn't.

They waged a war on each other for at least thirty minutes—body versus mind—and in the end, his body was the victor. And the next thing he knew, it was morning, and he rolled over to see Takeru still curled up under the covers with his phone in hand, lazily scrolling.

"Keru?"

"Hmm?"

"Did… did you sleep ok?"

He would've woken up if Takeru's sleep was disturbed, wouldn't he? If Takeru had another episode, he'd know. He wouldn't just sleep through it.

Takeru gave him an anxious look, as if he wasn't sure of the answer to that question. "...did I?"

Patamon popped his head out from under Takeru's blanket. "You didn't wake me up."

"I thought you slept rather soundly," Gabumon reported.

A tiny thread of relief wove through Takeru's expression, and he glanced back at Yamato as if for his opinion. A little confused, Yamato said, "...you didn't wake me up, either."

Takeru sagged against the wall. "I'm really glad. I… I hate to steal your sleep."

"You don't steal my sleep."

"Actually, I did," Takeru persisted. "If… if I wasn't in your room… if I wasn't living here, you'd sleep through the night like normal, right?"

Part of Yamato—the half-awake part—wanted to shush Takeru until he, too, decided maybe they should go back to sleep. Maybe it was too early for this. The other part—the part controlled by his brother instinct—knew that this had become a habit of Takeru's: he saw himself as a burden, and even though he wasn't and never had been, Yamato knew the answer to helping Takeru see the value in himself was patience.

"Kiddo, listen to me," he murmured, shifting to face Takeru fully and rubbing an eye with the base of his palm. "I just want you to be safe, and I want you to be happy. Ok?"

Takeru gazed at him with such vulnerability and such uncertainty that Yamato's stomach twisted. It was hauntingly similar to the look he'd given him yesterday, and the day before. Each time he looked at Yamato with that expression, a piece of him deteriorated.

"And this room is yours, too," he finished firmly, using every ounce of willpower he had to hide the fact that he was trying to speak through a knot in his throat. The loneliness—the looming fear of invalidation—glistening in Takeru's eyes was haunting. "Ok?"

Takeru smiled, and in the dimness of the room, he couldn't quite tell how genuine the gesture was. Nonetheless, he said, "Thanks, Nii-san. I want you to be safe and happy, too."

Yamato smiled back at him before blindly groping around for his phone to check the time before realizing, belatedly, that Takeru's alarm clock sat still and silent by their lamp for that very purpose. It was barely nine in the morning, and yet it felt freakishly early. Yamato wasn't sure why exhaustion refused to let go of his body.

Yamato's phone buzzed at the same time that Takeru giggled. Still relatively groggy, Yamato turned to face him. "What is it?"

"Hikari says Miyako's jealous that I only send her memes."

Yamato rolled his eyes affectionately, deciding it was time to turn on the lamp. "Is that what you've been doing since you woke up? Looking at memes?"

"There is no other way to spend the morning," Takeru declared with pride.

"How about breakfast?"

Takeru grinned at him. "A worthy contender."

Patamon glanced with wonder, whispering quizzically, "What's a 'meme'?"

"Palmon sometimes refers to Mimi as a 'memes'," Gabumon said with a sage nod.

"Actually, she calls her Meems."

"So then… what do you think the difference is?"

Takeru actually snorted. "That's a nickname. Memes are just jokes."

"Jokes that he is obsessed with," Yamato said.

"Nii-san, you can't not like memes."

Yamato just shrugged helplessly at Takeru, who gawked at him, open-mouthed, eyes wide. That earned him a chuckle, and Gabumon and Patamon just stared at them, and then at each other, with identical expressions of confusion. Yamato only continued to laugh under his breath as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed coffee.

"C'mon. Time to go eat."

A pause. Then his phone buzzed, and it was a notification from the very person who sat on the other side of the bed. "Takeru, did you just send me a meme?"

"...maybe."

"You're obsessed."

"I'm creatively using social media as a form of self-expression."

"It's just a picture of, what is this? Pikachu?"

"The shocked Pikachu face is an icon, Nii-san."

Another buzz. Yamato raised his brows. "Ok, ok, I get it. You have an appreciation for memes."

"...actually," Takeru said, dropping all hints of humor from his expression and voice, "I didn't send anything this time."

Blinking, Yamato glanced back down at his phone. Indeed, the message on his phone was not from Takeru, but rather a bandmate.

Yamato sighed internally. Right. He'd called off band practice yesterday in favor of going to the digital world, and it wasn't the first time. If he kept calling it off, his band was going to suffer. The other members of Knife of Day knew that Yamato had family complications, but they didn't know of his life as a Chosen—that part of his life would probably remain a secret for a while.

"Nii-san?" The anxiety from before had made its way back into Takeru's voice. "What's wrong?"

He sighed out loud this time. "Akira's wondering if we're meeting at the studio later."

"Are you?"

"I don't know," Yamato admitted honestly. "With everything going on with Mirrormon and the move… it's kind of been hard to schedule time for the band. I don't want to make plans and then bail last minute in case Koushiro or someone decides to call another spontaneous meeting."

Takeru paused. And then, with an encouraging smile: "I think you should go."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"'Cause it's obvious you've been stressed lately. Music's a great release for you, right? So use it."

Yamato hesitated. As Takeru spoke, he realized that Takeru was a lot more perceptive than he looked. No matter how much he tried to hide it, Takeru could read him. It was an ability that both touched and scared Yamato.

Because Takeru, at times, could be very hard to read. It was only recently that Takeru started shedding some of his walls, revealing the lonely, fragile boy underneath. Yamato had spent years learning what to look for when it came to Takeru's struggles, picking up on little signs and hints; but Takeru was, unfortunately, a master at pretending. It didn't help that they grew up in separate homes.

While Yamato learned to open up as a teenager, Takeru learned how to construct walls. In the aftermath of this realization was the guilt of knowing he'd failed Takeru. The blame couldn't be placed solely on their parents—even if they played a significant role in shaping Takeru's habits and ways of thinking.

The blame also fell on Yamato.

It fell on Yamato because it took him far too long to realize the damage their parents' decision inadvertently inflicted upon Takeru's psyche. Yamato grew up to be like his father—emotionally closed off, finding ways to occupy himself, and replacing loneliness with indifference.

Takeru's loneliness didn't get replaced. It only grew and grew, and eventually, he seemed to think that his thoughts and feelings were a burden to his family. Even to his friends. So he smiled, and he pretended, and damn it, Yamato just wanted to take that mask and throw it on the ground. Then it would shatter behind repair, and Takeru didn't have to play puppet anymore.

"Yamato?" Gabumon murmured.

Yamato blinked, his train of thought interrupted by Gabumon's perplexed voice. It was then that he realized all three of them were still awaiting a response.

"Sorry," he muttered, before looking at Takeru. "Hey, Takeru, can I ask you something?"

Takeru set his phone face down on the bed. "Sure."

"You… you know you're welcome here, right?"

"I know, Nii-san."

"So…" He paused, mulling over how to word it. "...you know I care?"

"Of course I do," Takeru said instantly. "I care about you, too."

"But you're still afraid… that you're bothering me."

Takeru fell quiet. Slowly, Patamon crawled out from under the blanket and into Takeru's lap—a gesture that seemed forever comforting to Takeru. Even Gabumon shuffled toward him to rest a paw on Takeru's leg.

And Yamato understood, suddenly, what this was about. Takeru's words from weeks ago echoed in his head:

"It's lonely here, Nii-san. Patamon's away, and Mom's always working, and I know Dad's always working…"

A loose translation was embedded in his confession. A translation that revealed what Takeru truly feared most.

"Takeru," Yamato repeated. "I'm up here."

"We're always having talks like this," Takeru mumbled without looking up.

"I think it's good to talk."

"Communication is good," Gabumon added.

"It helps you deal with things, sometimes. Instead of bottling it up."

Still, Takeru remained mute. Yamato inhaled silently and deeply through his nose. If… if he didn't address Takeru's fears, they would fester. They would suppurate like an infected wound, and that infection would spread without proper treatment. He had to acknowledge Takeru's deepest, darkest secret, it would destroy him. The last thing he wanted was to talk about something Takeru wasn't comfortable talking about, but this… this fear was a septic demon that haunted and threatened to consume both of them.

"You… you know I'm not going to leave you alone, right?" It came out as a gentle, soft whisper—Yamato himself couldn't help but feel anxious in the anticipation of Takeru's response to his words. "You know that, right, Takeru? I'm not going to abandon you."

There was. The word that made Takeru tense frightfully as though it could cause him harm. His hands, which were occupied with the menial, yet familiar task of petting Patamon's fur, curled into fists and he stared quietly at the bed.

"I'm not, Takeru," he repeated firmly, emphatically, sitting back on the bed and crawling across it to reach his younger brother. "I'm not going to abandon you. This is your home now, and I don't—and never have—regret inviting you into it. I'd never force you to leave. I'd never leave you alone. No matter whatever hell you have to face—any nightmare, or the sleepwalking, or this Mirrormon crap—I'm gonna be there, too."

Takeru swallowed visibly. "...promise?"

He sounded so young. So delicate, like a defenseless flower in the path of a stampede, with no choice but to accept its fate of being brutally and violently crushed.

Yamato leaned back against the wall. Slid an arm behind Takeru's neck and looped it over his shoulder. It was an action born from instinct, natural and easy. Yamato wasn't, by any means, a physically affectionate person—but Takeru was.

Takeru had been, though not purposely, starved of affection, and his response to such emotional negligence was to wonder why. Takeru needed this—to be reassured that Yamato wasn't too busy for him, that something else wasn't 'more important'. To be reassured that he was valued and loved.

And it was obvious in the way he melted. In the way he rested his head on Yamato's collarbone, sniffling quietly. In the way he relaxed so completely, welcoming Yamato's touch like it was the warmest embrace in the world.

"I promise," Yamato vowed.

"I won't leave you, either," Patamon echoed. "You can't get rid of me, Takeru!"

Takeru giggled wetly. "I wouldn't want to, Pata."

"That goes for me as well, Takeru," Gabumon promised gently. "I am right here, whenever you need me."

"...thank you," Takeru whispered, his voice still noticeably tight. "It… it really means a lot. To… to hear that."

"Anytime," Yamato murmured just as quietly. "Just remember it, 'k? You're my little brother. Nothing's more important than my little brother."

"...you really mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true."

Takeru sniffled again. Shakily, he raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. "...I still think you should go to your rehearsal. Your band is important."

"...tell you what," Yamato decided. "Let's eat, and then I'll see what time the guys want to practice. We'll head out, and if the rehearsal's too boring, there's a bookstore down the street from the studio."

"I would never think your music is boring," Takeru said with an offended expression. "This is my 'shocked Pikachu' face."

Yamato laughed at that. Patamon asked, "What's a Pikachu?"

"A digimon, perhaps?" Gabumon wondered contemplatively. "Pikachumon. Doesn't sound familiar."

That just made Yamato laugh harder, and Takeru soon joined him. Both digimon seemed startled by their reaction, but could only stare in helpless confusion.

Takeru lifted Patamon and pressed their cheeks together. "Please don't ever change."

They decided to walk to the studio in the early afternoon. It would have been faster to use the electric scooter as a means for transportation, but they'd already faced one demon today. Bringing up another one might overwhelm Takeru, and Yamato—though still physically drained—knew the fresh air could only be good for them.

Takeru seemed to be enjoying it, at least. He'd brought a backpack for the sole purpose of giving Patamon a place to hide (though Takeru made sure to promise that if he got too uncomfortable, he was welcome to play stuffed toy in Takeru's arms). Gabumon found it easier to take Tsunomon's form to join Patamon in the backpack (an amusing sight).

Takeru kept the bag unzipped for them both, periodically checking over his shoulder, but in the end, they ended up snuggled in the crooks of Takeru's elbows.

Not that Takeru seemed to mind. He just laughed as they neared the studio—a small but nonetheless affordable place Knife of Day rented by the hour to rehearse—and Yamato couldn't help but laugh as well. Takeru's laughter was infectious.

"Shh, shh, I think Nii-san's bandmates are already here," Takeru whispered as they approached the side door.

Patamon and Tsunomon quieted obediently, but it was obvious that they—as well as Takeru—were struggling to keep their giggles at bay.

"You're going to have to stay quiet while he practices," Takeru went on. "Actually, wait, Nii-san, will they pick on you for bringing 'stuffed toys' to practice? If they do, I'll take the blame."

"And if they pick on you, they'll have to face me," Yamato said. "Yeah, I think I saw Akira's car around the corner. He might have already picked up the guys. He'll use any excuse to drive."

"Sounds like somebody I know."

"Nah. I can't really drive yet. Just got the scooter."

"Your scooter's cooler than his car."

Yamato's lips twitched in pride and amusement. Takeru said it right as they entered the studio, loud enough for said bandmate—who was a mere six or seven feet away from the door—to hear him.

Akira arched a single brow. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid, but I know you didn't insult my car."

Takeru grinned cheekily, and Yamato's lips twitched again. "Can't blame 'im for having good taste."

"Excuse you. My car is way better than your wimpy scooter."

"Nii-san," Takeru breathed out, looking back at Yamato with an offended expression. "He called your scooter wimpy!"

"He's only saying that out of jealousy." Yamato swung his guitar case off his shoulder as he spoke. "Right?"

"Careful, you'll blow a fuse," Takashi—already seated behind his drums—commented with a chuckle.

"Have they met Yamato?" Patamon whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I dunno, that Akira guy is giving me Taichi vibes," Tsunomon murmured back.

Yamato almost didn't hear the exchange. Skillfully, Takeru stepped aside and 'adjusted' the impossibly still digimon in his arms, and Yamato shot his partner a warning (read: amused) look before asking Takeru, "You still have the plugs I gave you?"

Takeru shrugged one shoulder. "In here."

"And your water bottle?"

"Yep."

"Good. Gotta stay hydrated and keep your ears from getting damaged." Then, after fishing his cell out of his pocket and lowering his voice: "Here. If… if it's anything urgent, just… just set Tsunomon or Patamon down on the floor or something subtle like that. I'll finish the song and come up with something if we need to leave. And if you get bored—"

"Nii-san," Takeru said with a grin. "I know. We discussed it already, remember? Go enjoy your music."

"Thanks for waiting, guys," he said, careful to keep his voice low so Takeru wouldn't hear this time. That didn't make the sincerity of his words any less real. "I know it's not easy when I keep having to bail on practice."

"Nah," Takashi said with an easy smile. "We all knew you had a lot on your plate."

"Not gonna lie, though," Enmei chimed in just as quietly, "it's been weird rehearsing without you. Most of the time we cut it short."

"Guess we gotta make up for that, huh?" Yamato's gaze found Takeru, who was staring adoringly down at the digimon in his arms. "We should really make this one count."

"You're just saying that since you brought an audience," Akira teased as he, too, prepped his guitar.

"Hey now," Takashi said. "It could've been a girl. What was the name of that one you brought about a month or so ago? The Takenouchi girl?"

Yamato turned around to scowl at him as he put his protective plugs in his ears. "Watch it. That 'Takenouchi girl' can seriously bust your ass. Don't you dare disrespect her."

Takashi just kept grinning. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The conversation ended abruptly—Yamato's bandmates were great, but they weren't familiar with the rest of the Chosen, aside from knowing about Takeru, and Yamato preferred it that way—and they quickly descended into the familiarity of routine.

It'd been a few weeks since Yamato touched his bass, but the chords came so naturally to him. His fingers moved skillfully and effortlessly over the fretboards like he'd never stopped practicing.

Takeru had been right. Music really was Yamato's release. All the stress, anxiety, anger, and frustration sitting heavy on his shoulders just rolled off. Confronting his parents, making sure Takeru's life became steady and stable, and the whole Mirrormon ordeal was taking a toll on him—and although he'd continue to endure it for Takeru's sake without hesitation, because Takeru deserved someone with whom he could share this burden, the feeling of relief as the weight tumbled off his body was blissful.

With each note, each chord, each song they played, Yamato felt lighter and lighter. It was amazing to look over at his brother and see he looked just as happy and relieved as Yamato did—and the looks of wonder and admiration on their digimon's faces only made it better.

He no longer felt stuck. Trapped. He could finally move forward.

Yamato wasn't sure how long the rehearsal lasted. It felt like they'd only played half a dozen songs—barely pausing for water breaks in between—but by the time they finally decided to call it a day, Yamato realized hours had passed.

His bandmates quickly said their goodbyes as soon as they finished disassembling the stage and their instruments—Takeru and Yamato offered to do most of it, since the other three had spent a while setting up, but they refused to leave without helping. Soon it was just Takeru, Yamato, and their digimon left in the studio.

"Ready to go, kiddo?"

Takeru hummed affirmatively. "Ready."

"Good." Yamato nodded at him. "I just finished signing us out, so we should get going. Did anyone message me during the rehearsal?"

It was then that Takeru's cheerful expression faltered. Yamato frowned instantly.

"Takeru."

"It wasn't anything about the digital world," Takeru hurried to say. "I would've let you know if it was. It was just…"

Rather than finish his sentence, Takeru placed Yamato's phone in his outstretched hand, looking at the ground. Yamato clicked the power button to wake it up and saw his mother's contact on the screen.

"Oh," he murmured, his frown deepening. "Did you read it?"

"I did, yeah."

"What do you want to do?"

For a moment, he was expecting Takeru to close up. To shrink in on himself the way he so often did when he was uncertain or reluctant to talk. To change the subject and avoid the topic of their mother altogether. They'd already pushed aside one issue, addressed another, and he wasn't sure if they could fully tackle one more.

He wasn't expecting Takeru to look back up at him, directly into his eyes, and say, "I think we should see her."

Yamato blinked, taken aback. The determination glistening in Takeru's gaze was almost startling. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Takeru echoed with a firm nod. "I… I can't keep running away from her. I can't keep avoiding her. She's… she's mom. And soon… soon she'll be in Kobe, and I'll miss her…"

His voice wavered abruptly, and he swallowed. Regardless, Takeru's decision seemed concrete. He repeated, "Let's go see her."

"Alright," Yamato said, shooting Takeru a tiny, reassuring smile, even though a pit was beginning to form in his stomach. He didn't want Takeru to become overloaded. Still… "Whatever you want is fine with me."

They hadn't quite left the studio yet, so with Patamon and Tsunomon free to move about without worrying about being caught, Takeru's arms were free. He snaked his arms around Yamato's midsection and pressed his cheek against his shirt.

"Thank you so much," he murmured thickly into the fabric. "For… for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you, Nii-san."

You don't know how true that is for me, too.

Out loud, after gently returning Takeru's sudden embrace: "I told you, it's my job. Do you want me to call her, or do you want to…?"

Takeru pulled away, taking a deep breath. "Um… I think… that I'll call her. I have to face her sometime, right?"

Yamato's hand came to rest on Takeru's hair. "Sure."

As they finally exited the studio, Yamato sent Takeru their mother's contact and watched as his little brother, with Patamon at his side, strode down the sidewalk with renewed determination. Yamato lingered back a few meters to give him privacy but was careful to keep a watchful eye on him.

"He looks happy," Tsunomon observed quietly.

"Yeah," Yamato said wistfully, inhaling deeply through his nose. "He does. I'm just… hoping it goes the way he wants it to. My parents are pretty freaking dramatic sometimes, and Takeru's not the kind of person who holds grudges. I just… don't want to see him hurt."

"I know you and your mother aren't particularly close," Tsunomon said. "It's very considerate of you to give him this opportunity to make amends with her, despite your own opinions."

Yamato remained quiet. He wouldn't go as far as to say he hated—or even disliked—his mother, but their family was in a state of disarray. Not that it had ever been perfect to begin with, but… but he knew Takeru didn't like tension. If there was an opportunity to ease the tension, Yamato wanted to jump on it.

Even if it risked pretty much everything he'd spent the last few weeks building.

"Yeah," he muttered eventually, finally. "In the end, if Takeru's happy… I'm happy."

"He truly admires you."

His phone, still awake and unlocked, buzzed and chimed before Yamato could respond. Yamato raised the device up a bit, waiting for the brightness to adjust, and the pit in his stomach just got bigger.

"Uh oh," Tsunomon whispered. "Is it bad?"

Yamato scowled at the device as if it had done something to personally offend him. "It's Koushiro."

"Oh?"

I have news regarding Mirrormon's disappearance. Can you spare a moment?

Yamato relayed the message out loud, the scowl on his face deepening. Tsunomon gazed up at him, and then looked at Takeru.

Takeru, who had spent all of his summer experiencing misfortune after misfortune. Takeru, who was only just now learning how to open up and heal from issues he'd buried for years. Takeru, who was waving him over. Takeru, who was now turning around, looking at him with the brightest smile he'd seen in weeks.

Not atm, he typed out. I'll msg you when I'm free.

He turned his phone on silent, pocketed it, and he strolled toward Takeru without even bothering to wait for a response.

"Yamato," Tsunomon warned.

"Not now," Yamato said under his breath. "Not a word. I'm not ruining this moment for him."

Tsunomon quieted respectfully, as if he knew there was no sense in pushing. Yamato clung to the sunny smile on Takeru's face. Used it to gather the strength to smile, too, because if he didn't Takeru would catch on, and the pit in his stomach would grow bigger, bigger, bigger, until it swallowed them both whole and sent them on an inescapable path to perdition.

And when that happened, the short, sweet taste freedom would become little more than a child's unfeasible dream. When that happened, even the warmth of Takeru's seemingly infinite optimism and resilience would become finite. When that happened, even Takeru—hopeful, bright Takeru, wiser beyond his years and kind despite all his hardships—wouldn't be able to bounce back. When that happened…

Yamato wasn't sure what to do when that happened.

Ch 14 || Baby Steps

Their mother picked them up about two blocks from the studio. Yamato could count one hand the number of times he'd been in his mother's car, and he half-expected Takeru to decline her offer to give them a ride, given his new sensitivity.

The other part of him was relieved. Walking was healthy, and they were pretty used to it, but they'd been walking a lot these past few weeks. Takeru's stomach wasn't used to regular-sized meals, so he often had trouble finishing what was on his plate. Was… was there such a thing as too much exercise?

Not to mention, it was hot. And they had digimon who had heavy coats of fur.

So in the end, he was more thankful than upset, but the ride itself was still awkward. He'd messaged their mom to let her know that Takeru couldn't handle the windows being up—because even though Takeru was being brave in facing his fears and that was admirable, Yamato wanted to make him as comfortable as he could—and she never mentioned it.

Which was also appreciated. Though she did seem really hurt by the fact that both boys chose to sit in the backseat, and a traitorous thread of guilt wormed its way into his heart.

"Tsunomon," he whispered as he slid into the backseat, keeping his voice low so she wouldn't hear. "Can you do me a favor?"

Tsunomon looked up at him curiously. "Yes, Yamato?"

"Digivolve into Gabumon and keep her company up there. Please?"

The confused expression on his face lingered, and even Patamon looked baffled by the sudden request. His partner agreed nonetheless and spoke up.

"...Takaishi-san?"

"Hmm?" She snapped her head around, startled eyes eventually finding Tsunomon's tiny body. "Oh. Yes?"

She stumbled with her words, as if wanting to call him by name, only to realize a second later that he wasn't, in fact, the digimon she expected to see.

Tsunomon just smiled. "Just a moment. This might help."

Yamato set him down on his other side, scooting toward the middle to give him room, and it wasn't long before Tsunomon became cocooned in light and Gabumon stood in his place.

"Oh," she repeated faintly, eyes bulging slightly.

Gabumon's smile became friendlier. Warmer. The very essence of a comforting presence. "May I join you in the front?"

Her eyes darted between Takeru, Yamato, and Patamon, before drifting back to Takeru. As they got in the car, Yamato realized, he'd become tenser, and the sooner they got moving the sooner they'd be out of this vehicle.

And it was another reason to send Gabumon into the passenger seat. Hopefully, he could keep her occupied so she wasn't constantly looking back at them in her rear-view mirror.

"Of course you can," she answered finally, with a shaky smile. "Imagine the faces of the car next to us later… seeing a digimon in the front seat."

"Shoulda seen the kid that passed us on the way to Yamato's rehearsal," Patamon chimed in. "I swear he knew I was real. He kept staring."

She chuckled, half-genuinely amused, half-nervous. Then, hesitantly: "You… you boys wouldn't… mind staying for supper?"

Yamato glanced down at Takeru. His fingers were digging into Patamon's fur, and it was obvious by how white his knuckles were that his grip was extremely tight, but Patamon didn't seem bothered.

Yamato definitely noticed the way the bandages on his fingers started to shift and peel back from the action. Bandages could only hold for so long, and bending his fingers was only going to shorten its life.

"What do you want to do, Teek?" he whispered, careful not to put the pressure on him by speaking too loudly but also not willing to make a decision without hearing Takeru's opinion first.

Takeru gazed at him out of the corner of his eye. Gabumon had slid out of the backseat and climbed into the passenger seat in record time, even going as far to close the door. Slowly, Yamato closed his own car door but decided to remain in the middle seat despite the lack of legroom, and their mom flicked on her turn signal.

As she pulled out of the parking lane and onto the main road, Takeru expelled a near-silent breath. "I-is… if that's ok?"

"Of course it's ok, Takeru," she said, sounding equal parts relieved and happy. "I, um, I actually got… a cookbook."

Takeru's eyes scampered to the window before darting back down. Slowly, vigilantly, Yamato placed a hand on his knee.

"Yamato has plenty of cookbooks," Gabumon said. "Which kind did you purchase?"

What the hell would I do without Gabumon?

"It was a simple one," she said somewhat sheepishly. "Simple recipes. I… I've only looked at it once."

Gabumon, for his part, nodded sagely. "I see."

"Do we need to go to the store?" he asked, somewhat wearily. "To get ingredients?"

"Actually…" Her tone brightened a little. "...I went this morning."

"For real?" Takeru said, his voice a little breathy.

"Yes. I was thinking… that I needed to try a few things in the book, at least. I… I bought salmon, if that's ok? There was a recipe for, um… what was it? Teriyaki, I think? We could pair it with… rice?"

Her confidence wavered as she continued on, like she was afraid of how Yamato would respond. Like she was afraid to say the wrong thing.

"Sounds delicious," Patamon quipped.

"It does," Takeru said, trying to smile. "What… do you think, Nii-san?"

"Sure," Yamato said with a curt nod.

It was kind of a relief to know that they wouldn't have to hunt down ingredients. It was obvious already that Takeru was uncomfortable being in a car, and Yamato's legs ached from the amount of walking they'd done over the course of the week. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised to hear it, though—and from his mother, no less.

Maybe… maybe she really was trying to change, this time.

Regardless, Yamato was highly aware of Takeru's stiff body next to him. Part of him wondered if he should scoot over and give his brother space, but it seemed like physical contact was the one thing that could ground him.

The thought threatened to sunder the stability of his brain, to open up a new chasm of unwanted, guilt-invested thoughts. Dangerous. Baleful. Bottomless, and yet instead of sinking, the thoughts crawled out from its depths, drunk on the very thought of freedom, and scattered like spiders in his brain. Spiders that promised to consume him whole.

Of course Takeru needed physical comfort when he was scared. Of course Takeru needed the contact, to know that it was alright. Because he'd been starved of it for so long—even if it was unintentional—and how do you make up for years of emotional neglect?

The least he could do for Takeru was provide him with the comfort and safety of his presence.

So, without a word, Yamato lifted his arm from Takeru's knee to loop it around his shoulders. Almost immediately, Takeru leaned into him, but only slightly, and kept his eyes on his lap.

Gabumon—bless his heart—carried the conversation with their mother while both boys struggled to find the words. Yamato would never be able to express how much gratitude he felt for Gabumon's preparedness.

Still, despite the fact that he knew his mother was occupied and the car wasn't filled with tense silence, the ride to her apartment felt impossibly long and awkward. Minutes passed with exaggerated slowness, like something invisible and intangible stood in time's way to hinder its progression.

Takeru did not relax until their mother's car was parked. Murmured, "I… I feel sick."

Yamato squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. Said, just as quietly: "Want to wait a bit, or do you want out of the car?"

He wasn't shaking like last time, but the way he breathed was still erratic and shallow. It took a few moments for him to respond. "...let's… let's just get out of the car."

"Alright." Yamato tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he tried to read his brother, determining just how sick he was. "...can you stand?"

Wordlessly, Takeru nodded. Then, still not making a sound, and moving slowly, he reached over to unbuckle and shuffled out of his seat. Opened the car door like something was out there and he couldn't get caught by whatever it was.

Yamato wasn't far behind him, deciding to leave his guitar in the seat and worry about grabbing it later. He didn't like the wobble in his brother's steps.

Seconds later, their mother stepped out, looking at Takeru with uncertainty and worry. Her eyes met Yamato's briefly, before her gaze shifted back to his brother. "Everything ok?"

Takeru nodded again, this time managing to smile. "Um, yeah. Sorry. Carsick."

"Are you sure, hun?"

She took a cautious step toward him, like Takeru was a feral animal that could bolt at any given second. Her hands twitched, and after a moment or two of silence, her arms began to move and she cupped Takeru's cheeks in her fingers.

"Are you sure?"

Unexpectedly, Yamato was hit full-force by a wave of memories. His mind flung him back into the events of yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. The day where they found the digimon underground. The night when Takeru fought his way out of bed and banged on the apartment door until his skin cracked and bruised and bled. The meeting where they practically interrogated his brother, who was as frustrated and confused as the rest of them.

Yamato had said those exact words. Had repeated them exactly as she had. And Takeru went quiet, only to collapse for unexplained reasons barely a minute later. His eyes swirled with thick ribbons of blood red and...

The sound of Gabumon's footsteps snapped him back, and Yamato's blood crystallized in his veins. He watched Takeru with renewed urgency. His body was already preparing for the imminent fainting spell.

Except it never happened. Takeru looked equally tense, though for a different reason; the smile resurfaced on his face. He looked moved by the display of physical affection, and nodded his head.

"I'm ok," he whispered. "Thank you for asking."

Slowly, hesitantly, his mother smiled as well. Then she pulled away. "Alright. Let's go then, yeah?"

Another nod. Yamato watched his brother with lingering suspicion, still a little concerned. Some kind of aching hung like a web in Takeru's gaze, only deepening Yamato's worry, but along with it came the painful realization that Takeru probably missed their mother.

He didn't blame Takeru at all. What kid wouldn't miss their mother? Nonetheless, it was a brutal reminder that no matter how much Yamato tried… no matter what he did, or how much affection and love he gave Takeru…

Yamato wasn't their mother. Yamato couldn't replace a mother's love.

He wasn't sure why this realization affected him so profoundly. He wasn't sure why it stung so deeply. But it stung all the same.

"Nii-san?"

Yamato blinked. "Hmm?"

"Are… are you ok?" Takeru wondered. "Gabumon asked you something."

Blinking again, Yamato's gaze drifted around to locate his partner. Gabumon stared at him with a subtle sort of understanding that only he could achieve. "Yeah?"

" Asked if you were alright, as Takeru did," Gabumon answered.

Yamato nodded, though this response was a little less than truthful. Without waiting for a reply, his gaze drifted back to Takeru and his mother. "Should we, um… should we go?"

"Right," their mother murmured, nodding as well. "Let's go, then."

The walk to her apartment door was just as awkward as the car ride, but the more they walked, the more relaxed Takeru seemed to become. This, in turn, helped Yamato relax. It did not, however, keep him from fretting.

Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe he was being a bit too overprotective. Takeru was a teenager—he'd be fourteen in a few months. But age meant nothing to Yamato as he thought of the events that occurred very recently. Events that haunted him in every waking moment.

Because who knew what the hell Mirrormon had planned? Who knew if it involved the very boy who walked alongside him? The what ifs circled around and around in his head on an endless loop and he didn't know to close his mind off from them.

Gabumon brushed against his leg as they walked, and even though it probably wasn't very smart to walk with Patamon and Gabumon out in the open like this, their mother had parked relatively close to the building.

Yamato already knew he'd explode without Gabumon there. It was another thing that left him exhausted—always being on the verge of explosion. He wouldn't allow himself to check his phone to see if Koushiro had responded to his message. He didn't need to think about it.

He didn't want to think about it.

"—right, Nii-san?"

They'd entered the building by the time he checked back into the conversation. Their mother was sifting through her keys to locate the one that belonged to her apartment door, and Takeru was looking at him with a strange expression that he couldn't quite read.

"Sorry, kiddo," he murmured with a tiny, sheepish smile, one hand coming down to rest on his shoulder. "My head was up in the clouds. What did you say?"

Takeru smiled. "That's alright. I get it from somewhere, don't I?"

"Your father was always spacing out like that," their mother said with a chuckle. Her words were not laced with bitterness or frustration; instead, her tone was distant. Nostalgic. Wistful. "I'd ask him a question and he'd just, '...what?' Drove me nuts sometimes."

"He still does that," Yamato chose to say, keeping his voice light. No need to create more tension when they were working so hard to break it. "Teek? Seriously, I'm listening now."

"He was just bragging about your cooking," Patamon quipped.

Takeru, for his part, didn't even blush. He just grinned. "He's teaching me."

"You think you could help me out?" their mother said hesitantly, barely daring to smile. "I… I haven't cooked salmon in a long time."

It wasn't ideal, because her kitchen was unfamiliar and he didn't like cooking in a place where he didn't know where things were, but then… it would occupy his hands. Would give him something else to think about.

"...how long?" he asked, teasing just a little.

She laughed as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, widening it for the two of them. "...nineteen, I think? ...maybe twenty?"

Yamato looked at Takeru dramatically. "Looks like I don't have much of a choice?"

"Nii-san!"

His smile only grew even as he chided Yamato, dampening the heat in his tone. Their mother only laughed, too.

"Actually, no, I don't blame him. I'm, uh, culinarily challenged, you could say."

They slipped off their shoes and Takeru laughed at her comment, but something still lingered in the air—a sort of awkwardness which Yamato thought would only exist between his mother and him. Never between her and Takeru.

Or… or maybe that wasn't fair. He knew that their parents were workaholics, but he didn't know how much time Takeru spent alone in the past because of it. Maybe he felt just as perturbed as Yamato did.

Yamato didn't visit the apartment so much as Takeru came over to his place. Still, he knew what the inside of the flat looked like—but somehow it seemed a lot bigger and a lot emptier than it used to be.

Some of the furniture, like the sofa and coffee table, remained, but the small collection of things that she had scattered about, on shelves or hanging up—a clock, some photos, and her college degree were, shamefully, the only things he could remember—were now gone. Suddenly it didn't feel much like someone's home.

I hope she didn't pack away the dishes we need.

It would upset both his mother and Takeru if they had to unpack something—especially because her moving was the reason Takeru came to stay with Yamato in the first place.

"Pardon the clutter. I was putting a timeline together this morning, and I've been, um, packing..." She trailed off. "You boys, um… you want something to drink? I have—oh! Right!"

Her hands were hovering over the (supposed) timeline on the coffee table, but she then was moving toward the kitchen with abrupt haste. Over her shoulder: "I have drinkable yogurt."

"Yogurt?" Takeru echoed, just as Patamon asked, "What's that?"

"I know you're fond of sweet things, but… but I wanted to, um… get something healthy, in… in case you came by. It's supposed to be good for digestion and your immune system, and—and I wasn't sure what flavor you'd actually like, so I…bought..." She trailed off again, hand resting on the handle of the fridge, before continuing with less vigor, "I remember you both loving it as children, but… but sometimes tastes change as we grow older…"

"No, I'd love some," Takeru said, with that same smile from before—two parts mystery, one part affection, one part melancholy—like he knew their family would never be perfect, but he was still happy their mother was trying to do something about it.

"I would, too," Gabumon said warmly. "If that's alright with you, Takaishi-san?"

Her response was immediate. Her face seemed to glow. "Of course. Yamato? Patamon?"

"Sure!"

Well, if he didn't accept… he'd be the odd one out, right? So he said, "Why not?"

"Thanks, Mom," Takeru said sincerely as she placed the different options to choose from on the counter. "This is really cool."

The atmosphere in her apartment changed so fast. Maybe that was just a Takeru thing—no matter how mad or upset anyone was, and no matter how awkward things could become, Takeru's presence seemed to clear the air. He'd peek out through the clouds of a storm like a ray of sunshine.

Not long after they finished their drinks, Patamon shamelessly declared that he was hungry. This prompted them to begin supper, and although the tension had dissipated, it was when Takeru excused himself to use the bathroom that their mother's smile stumbled.

He knew what she was going to say before she said it. Yamato tried to look busy as he washed the rice in the sink, but she was in the kitchen, too, with the cookbook in her hands. Takeru was out of the room. Of course she'd take the opportunity.

"...your father says that he's been having… episodes, lately."

"Mm-hm."

"I know that you probably don't want to talk about it. Especially when he's not in the room..."

"It'd kill the mood if we brought it up in front of him," he muttered as he shut off the faucet.

"But I know how you feel about talking behind your brother's back."

"So you're bringing it up because…?"

He didn't say it to be rude or cold. She'd made mistakes, but she was still their mother—it didn't surprise him that she would want to talk about something so worrying. But damn it, he just wanted to not think about anything stressful while he was here.

"He does sleepwalk sometimes," she murmured in confirmation. "It's usually not anything dangerous or extreme… and it doesn't happen nearly as much as it did when he was a small child…"

Suddenly Yamato's brain did a one-eighty. He gazed up at her with the freshly-washed rice still in hand. A knot formed swiftly in his throat. "...yeah?"

"Yeah," she went on in the same quiet voice. "I'm talking maybe… an episode every few months or so? The older he gets, the less frequent it becomes. He usually just walks to the couch and goes back to sleep."

"Does he not remember doing it?"

"As far as I know, no. At first, I just assumed he'd accidentally dozed off on the sofa… but then admitted that he couldn't remember doing it. So I suspected for a while… I thought maybe he hadn't yet grown out of it… but I caught him, one time. It wasn't… like the episode your father described, however…"

Yamato wanted to shudder just thinking about it. Had to be careful not to linger in that part of his mind, lest his brother's screams haunt him anew. "So it's just mild, then?"

She nodded. "There are times… when he was a bit younger, right after… you both came home from…"

She glanced at Gabumon, who was respectfully quiet as they spoke. Patamon had gone with Takeru into the bathroom.

"I know what you mean," he said, turning his attention back to the rice. "I know he has nightmares about it, on occasion."

"The screaming used to wake me up."

"...I thought you said it was mild."

"Right." Another nod. "He doesn't… usually act violently or fearfully in his sleep… but when you both came home, he did have nightmares…"

"And you're only just now telling me this?"

"I did discuss it with your father. I wondered if you were going through something similar."

That part made his throat grow even tighter. Tighter. Almost to the point of suffocation.

She… worried about me, too… and never…

She never told me.

It was dangerous territory. Feelings and memories he'd shoved aside years ago. Everything unpleasant was unwanted and so he shut them out. He shut them out so well that he hadn't been able to open them up again. and it wasn't until the journey to the digital world and even the second time that he learned how to reconnect with those emotions, but he still hated the way they made him feel.

"Like I said before," she continued suddenly, "the screaming was as bad as it got. He'd remember the nightmares, so… so I figured that's what they were. If he hadn't remembered, then… then I would have considered them night terrors, like your dad told me. He never… his hands... he's never hurt himself like that. He—"

The bathroom door opened. Their whispered conversation only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like it had dragged on for much longer.

"Sorry, I was just… I got the bandaids all wet, so I just took them off," Takeru said, sounding a little nervous. Like he didn't really want to bring it up in the first place, but he knew that someone would point out that they were suddenly missing.

(That someone would likely be Yamato.)

"Do you need more, hun?" their mom asked.

"Yeah, you should probably redress them," Yamato added. "We should have done it this morning."

"Nah. Besides, look!" He wiggled his fingers. "They're not that bad. I guess I heal fast, huh?"

Yamato thought back to the day he'd injured his foot. Upon coming home, it'd basically repaired itself. Slowly, Yamato set bowl in the sink, making his way over to his brother without hesitation to investigate.

Patamon said, "I… I couldn't believe it, either."

"They didn't bother me that much at your rehearsal," Takeru admitted, and he glanced up for only a moment before looking back down. As Yamato took his hands, he wasn't sure why Takeru was suddenly afraid to meet his eyes, but then the realization hit.

Their mother. He was afraid of what she'd think.

As if sensing this, she stayed back, but Yamato's attention quickly zeroed in on his brother's fingers.

His brother's fingers, which had been bruised and bloody barely even two nights ago. He'd scratched and hit the door hard enough to leave wounds that should have lasted for a week, at the very least.

His fingers, which looked like they'd skipped straight to one of the final healing stages.

"What the hell…?"

"I don't get it," Takeru said with a shrug before pulling away from Yamato's hands. "But… but anyway, I just… didn't want you to worry, so I figured I'd let you know that I took them off. It's time for supper, right?"

"...right," Yamato echoed faintly, brain struggling to catch up.

He thought about the phone in his pocket. It suddenly felt so heavy, so large. Like Koushiro's message was a tangible thing that could increase its weight. He'd made a discovery and they'd had no idea what it was.

And not knowing made it much more frightening. It was a shadow that loomed over him, and Takeru didn't know. Takeru didn't know that he knew. The desire to get out his phone and see just what Koushiro had found out was strong, but it was also dangerous.

What they found out could soothe his fears.

What they found out could also add to his fears.

Yamato inhaled slowly. He… no, he couldn't think about it. No matter how foreboding the feeling was—and no matter how tempted he was to see what the hell Koushiro wanted—he couldn't. All that would do was make everything much, much worse.

"You're worried."

He hadn't realized Gabumon was so close to him until he spoke. His words only cemented Yamato's belief that he needed to get his mind off this mess. It'd drive him if he let it.

So, rather than responding, Yamato walked toward the kitchen and asked, "Are you sure there's enough salmon for the five of us?"

His mother's gaze was still locked on Takeru. Or, rather, Takeru's hands. Like she was trying to imagine how bad the wounds used to be.

"I didn't even think of that," Takeru said, eyes widening. "With the digimon…"

"You always know you do not have to feed us," Gabumon said instantly. "Though the offer was very kind."

Suddenly she chuckled. "I'm not too worried about it."

Yamato picked the bowl of rice up and set it aside to wash his hands before he got back to work. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"I, um…" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a self-deprecating smile on her face. "I went shopping extremely motivated, so I might have gone… overboard…"

She gestured to the fridge, and Yamato frowned slightly. "How long have you kept it in the fridge?"

This time she rolled her eyes, though the smile remained on her lips. "I bought it this morning. It's not bad."

"Alright…" He trailed off and opened the fridge. The salmon was the first thing he saw, and he almost snorted. "Mom, were you planning on eating this all by yourself?"

Her head descended into her palms. She continued to laugh. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Takeru squeezed gently. "Whoa."

"You can feed a family of four with this," Yamato went on as he took it out and closed the fridge. "Haven't you heard of, I don't know, 'baby steps'?"

"You must have been really motivated," Patamon said. "Oh! Thanks for supper, too. I didn't say that before."

She peeked at them through the cracks of her fingers. "...so you'll help me eat it?"

"If we don't, Patamon certainly will," Takeru said.

Patamon looked down at him with a pout, feigning hurt, but it only lasted a few seconds. "...I do like fish."

She just chuckled again. "I'm a lucky woman, then." And then, as an afterthought: "This is what I call 'baby steps'."

A certain fondness wrapped around her words, delicate and grateful. Yamato looked at her, attempting to read her. Attempting to figure out what she meant. Before he could get anywhere, Takeru moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She looked surprised, and for a brief moment, Yamato's heart plummeted. If she rejected the hug, what then? It would kill him. It would erase all the progress they'd made. It would—

"Yeah," Takeru whispered. "...baby steps."

She returned the embrace slowly, suddenly looking close to tears. "Mm-hm."

There it was again. The gut-wrenching feeling that he hated so much. It was like a wound that, somehow, never fully healed, and so it kept reopening. He only ever wanted Takeru to be healthy and happy, but… but he couldn't pretend it didn't hurt to see him run so swiftly up to her.

Takeru never held a grudge, and if he did, it wasn't for long. And of course Yamato would want him to make amends with her, if only so he could live peacefully with himself.

Get a fucking grip, he thought to himself, scowling at the floor. What are you, five? Of course he'd hug her. He's Takeru.

"...still ok if I watch you cook, Nii-san?" Takeru asked suddenly, turning to face him. "I don't know if—hey, Nii-san, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, kiddo."

"And that's exactly why you've got your grumpy face on."

"I don't have a grumpy face."

"Sure you do," Patamon chirped, now fluttering in the air. "You're wearing it right now."

Yamato's scowl deepened.

Takeru stepped toward him. Extended his arms to embrace him. Their mother took the salmon from his hands and he didn't even notice at first. All he could focus on was: "...I told you not to worry about it."

Yamato wasn't a very physically affectionate person. Anyone who knew him knew that. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Takeru thrived on this… maybe it was because Takeru was his brother, his only brother. Or maybe he didn't really have a reason. All the same, his response was instinctive:

He returned it. Rested his chin on Takeru's head like he always did. Murmured, "You know me."

"We'll take it one step at a time." Takeru's voice dropped low. "Baby steps."

The phone weighed heavy again in his pocket, like a dense stone. Their mother looked lost all of a sudden, all warmth gone. Takeru's haunted, frightful screams echoed in the back of his mind like an unpleasant song that he couldn't get out of his head.

Yamato didn't speak of these things. Instead just squeezed Takeru's shoulders gently, like it was the last time he'd ever hug him again.

"Mm." He swallowed and echoed, "Baby steps."

The SD card from Hikari's camera was still inserted in Koushiro's laptop. Koushiro had been so distracted by this new discovery that he hadn't removed it, even after the files had been copied onto his computer.

Miyako wondered if he just hadn't noticed yet, or if it'd slipped his mind entirely. But then, Hikari left nearly thirty minutes ago—and she wasn't due to come back for at least another hour. No need for him to rush.

And yet Koushiro rushed still. He moved as if someone sat next to him with a timer. Like some invisible, impossibly heavy amount of pressure rested on his shoulders.

Jeez. And Daisuke calls me intense.

Koushiro wasn't the only one acting like someone was pointing a gun to his head. Iori and Ken were also in the room, dreadfully quiet, and it took everything in her not to sigh. What was the point of them staying behind instead of going with Hikari if they were just going to sit around in silence?

Alright, so Iori's and Ken's reason for staying was pretty noble. They were worried about the whole Mirrormon situation, and she couldn't say she blamed them. Mirrormon was a monster emerging from Hell itself, it seemed, and with the theory that Takeru was linked to him…

Miyako winced internally and frowned. Takeru really was acting strange, and she didn't want to be dramatic here, but she was worried. Even as they walked over to Koushiro's place, she could see just how heavy the weight of Mirrormon's looming presence was on her friends' shoulders.

Hikari smiled that sweet smile of hers, but it didn't reach her eyes. Iori looked like his mind had traveled thousands of miles away, looking down at the concrete as he walked. They met with Ken at the station after hearing Hikari's discovery on her camera because he wanted to help however he could.

And… and even Ken looked bothered by something. The sadness in confusion reflecting in the gazes of her comrades was almost too much to bear.

It… it seemed like they'd already lost. And Miyako wasn't sure what—or, she dared to think, whom—it was that they lost, but the effects of the predetermined defeat were already devastating.

She was almost wishing Daisuke could have joined them. He'd had some kind of obligation with his parents from which he couldn't escape, but… but Daisuke was like a bundle of pure, unfiltered energy. He could put a smile on anyone's face.

It was something he and Takeru had in common. But where Daisuke used humor and basically turned himself into a clown to cheer someone up, Takeru was gentle in his encouragement. Warm. His optimism was soft and quiet, but steady and effective in its delivery.

And of course, neither of them is freaking here right now.

Yeah, sure, it wasn't fair for her to think that. It wasn't like they'd missed going on purpose—the decision to walk to Koushiro's place with Hikari was more impulsive than anything else, and it wasn't mandatory.

Still. This silence was annoying, and she hated that two of her closest friends were just sitting here moping like somebody had just died.

Her foot tapped repeatedly and swiftly against Koushiro's bedroom floor—a quiet echo of her impatience. But as soon as the thought of death crossed her mind, a violent chill crawled down her spine like a spider.

I'm giving myself the creeps, she thought with an internal groan. Ok, it's up to you, girl. Be optimistic. Show them there's hope.

Except the only thing that came out of her mouth was, "Guys, are you going to just sit there and pout, or are you going to do what you came here to do—come up with theories?"

All three boys jumped in surprise, and even Koushiro turned around to face her with a stunned expression.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. Not what she'd intended to happen, but what the heck? She didn't have a choice but to roll with it now.

"What?" she challenged, with a (hopefully) nonchalant shrug. Her gaze drifted back and forth, back and forth between Iori and Ken. "That's what you both wanted to talk about, right? Mirrormon?"

Ken looked down at his hands shamefully with pinkened cheeks. "We did say that, huh?"

"Mm." Iori nodded subtly. "Yeah."

"So what're we waiting for?" Miyako crossed her arms. "Let's get talking!"

"I was, ah, saving the conversation for when Yamato called me back," Koushiro admitted, pulling his fingers away from his keyboard to scratch his neck sheepishly. "It seemed—"

"Koushiro, you don't honestly believe that he's going to talk to you civically? You don't think he'll try to rip your head off?"

A long pause, during which neither of the boys spoke.

"Yeah," she finished softly, deflating. "Thought so."

"You know he's just worried, right?" Iori whispered. "About Takeru…"

He left the sentence hanging, but they all knew what he was referencing. It towered hauntingly over their heads, and though he seemed invisible at the moment, Mirrormon's threat was so intimately real that Miyako was getting chills again just thinking about it.

"I don't blame him," Ken said finally, gently. He drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees and gazing downward once again. "Takeru's… he's in a tight spot, isn't he? And… I think Yamato's afraid of… losing him…"

Something lingered deep in his voice, buried beneath soft-spoken neutrality. Miyako's heart stumbled and began to sink, but she caught it just in time.

Of course. Right. A knot formed in her throat. She'd found out about Osamu by complete accident—one of the first times she'd been in his home, she saw a picture. They looked alike; she's assumed he was a cousin or something, and had said as much.

She'd been floored when she found out the truth. Sure, her siblings were kind of a pain, but Ken…

"Something's just…" Iori, from his place against the wall, looked like he was about to be sick. "...aside from what Yamato disclosed to us… even before we knew about that… something felt… strange."

Koushiro seemed intrigued by his words. "...care to elaborate?"

Iori didn't look like he wanted to. A sharp sense of guilt stabbed Miyako from the inside.

She'd wanted to help them out. But she opened her big mouth and just made everything worse.

What. The. Hell, she thought. How in the world do you boys do it?

"Sorry," she murmured, gazing down at her socks. "I shouldn't have pushed you guys. Of course you've got a lot on your mind. I was just… frustrated, sitting in silence."

"No, you were right." Ken turned his head to look at her with a tiny smile. "We were supposed to ask questions. It'd probably be best if we try to figure out as much as we can based on the new information we have before we get ahold of Yamato. Maybe we'll be able to answer any questions we have."

"And you've mentioned that Hikari showed you the photos on her camera…" Koushiro trailed off thoughtfully, before adding, "...what're you three thinking?"

"I'd like to know what you're thinking, Mr. Let's Wait Until Yamato Calls Me," Miyako said. "Hikari said—"

"I'm still thinking," Koushiro said in defense. "You… at least one of you spotted the differences, I assume?"

Miyako's gaze flickered to Koushiro's computer screen. The photos were still pulled up, though she couldn't see them in detail from where she sat next to Ken on the floor. Before she could reply, Ken timidly said, "Hey, wait a second… Iori?"

"Yes?"

"What do you mean?" His voice was gentle. Careful. "You said you felt something… strange?"

Iori paused, inexplicably hesitant once again. He met Ken's eyes, and then Miyako's, and swallowed nervously.

Miyako fought the urge to raise her brows. She'd known Iori since they were children. It wasn't like he was immune to fear—his morals, after all, were very important to him, and so she knew that straying from them caused him anxiety—but he was the kind of person who always seemed composed, even for his age.

Sure, Iori seemed to have a secret sense of dry humor. Takeru's just-barely-secret troll side was definitely wearing off on him. They were Jogress partners, after all, so—

Oh. Oh, crap.

She repeated it out loud, eyes widening as realization hit her. It was like she'd finally found the correct place to put her puzzle piece. "Of course!"

Ken gave her a surprised, perplexed look; and he wasn't the only one. Koushiro looked equally confused and hedged, "Um… of course, what?"

Miyako's gaze remained fixed on Iori. "You feel something, don't you? Through the Jogress bond?"

Iori rubbed the backs of his fingers like they itched. Ken's and Koushiro's attention now shifted back onto Iori like the four of them were playing some kind of ping-pong game.

"Is that true?" Koushiro pressed curiously. "When did it start? Why didn't you say anything before? We c—"

"Hey, um, Koushiro?" Ken interrupted shyly. "He… he may not want to talk about it." And then, to Iori: "Are you feeling ok? You're… pale."

Miyako studied him. Ken's statement was true, and Miyako couldn't determine whether it was because he wasn't feeling well or if he was just nervous. He was typically one of the calmest, level-headed kids on the team.

Which made his silence all the more unsettling.

"You… you still feel it, don't you?" Iori asked eventually, his voice faint and small. "The… connection?"

Slowly, as if feeling some sort of invisible resistance when he moved, Iori's hand came to rest on his chest, over his heart. Fisted his fingers into his shirt.

Almost instinctively, Miyako did the same. He didn't have to elaborate any further. Didn't even have to specify that he was talking about the Jogress connection. She already knew.

The synchronized heartbeat when their digimon evolved together. When she dozed off. When she spaced out.

The unwanted, chilling feeling that crawled up her spine when Hikari was in danger.

The muggy fog in her brain when Hikari felt unwell, physically or mentally.

The hollow ache in her chest when she didn't see Hikari after a certain period of time.

The Jogress bond felt so natural, so effortless, that she didn't mind when Hikari occasionally stopped by; she knew the friendship was mutual, given all the times she'd escaped to Hikari's (blessedly) quiet apartment. It was intimate in a comfortable, non-sensual way; nothing physical, or romantic, or strange. They still had boundaries and valued each other's privacy. They still knew how much was too much, and when they shouldn't pry. She couldn't recall the last time she and Hikari fought. Probably not since the day of their first Jogress evolution.

When that happened, it had been so surreal. The way she felt that day was so otherworldly, so different, so foreign. After all, Miyako (though she wouldn't admit it) was not someone who made friends easy. She was too loud. Too blunt. Even too 'bitchy', according to her older brother.

To have a bond like the two of them shared… it was a dream. Hikari was one of her best friends. They were polar opposites, and yet they fit together like puzzle pieces.

Now, after three years, it didn't feel like their friendship was abnormal at all—it was so relaxably easy that she didn't consider it any different than an ordinary friendship. It was something they both considered normal.

Unless something was wrong.

Unless either of them was going through something immeasurably haunting.

Unless the battle called for strength beyond what their adult-level digimon had.

Unless something dreadfully, gastronomically bad happened.

"Oh."

She wasn't the one who spoke. It was Ken, his voice so faint and so soft that it sounded like a mere hum. Koushiro sat quietly at his desk, but the way his eyes grew wide, bit by bit, millimeter by millimeter, told Miyako that he had figured it out. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and for once, Miyako thought he had no idea what to say.

Which was saying something. She'd known Koushiro (and admired him, ever since her elementary days) for years, and he always had something to say. He was always asking questions, always curious, always wanting to know more, more, more.

And suddenly that curiosity was replaced by unease and awkward tension, and if something else that she considered 'normal' in her life shifted—even if just a little—then she'd lose what little sanity she had left.

"Is it bad?" she couldn't help but ask, her voice a crackling whisper.

It was stupid that she couldn't talk any louder considering she was the one who forced them into conversing in the first place, but… but she couldn't help it.

These were people who were normally so formal, so composed. Seeing them act differently was just… it was weird.

"It… doesn't hurt," Iori explained finally, though his gaze remained fixated on the wooden panels that lay beneath them as he spoke. "I can just… I had no idea he was sleepwalking, but… the moment I…"

Iori bit his lip, trailing off. No one else in the room urged him to continue, and the silence that engulfed the group was horrifically uneasy. Deafening. Painful.

"He came out of the forest, and… and it didn't feel like Takeru," Iori went on without warning. "I… I didn't mention it because Yamato was already hysterical, and so was Hikari, and they're still acting that way, but… but I… I felt like I was looking… at a stranger, for a moment."

He pulled his knees up tighter to his chest, crossing his arms over his shins and hugging them close. Then he shuddered like he was cold.

"And then it was gone. I figured I was just being… I don't know. I thought it was just me because Takeru started acting normal after that. But… but yesterday…"

"...he hasn't been acting like his usual self," Ken murmured. "I… I don't know Takeru as well as you or Hikari, but… he's usually so cheerful. I've… always admired that about Daisuke and Takeru. They're always smiling and finding a way to keep everyone in good spirits."

"Yeah," Iori whispered. "Except yesterday, he was… like a shell."

"What do you think it means?" Miyako asked, looking back and forth between Ken and Iori.

"...I don't know. But whatever… whatever happened in the forest, it… I think it changed him." Iori paused to swallow, and then added, "I've always felt… drawn to him, in a sense? When… when the Jogress evolution happened, I thought it couldn't be possible. There was still so much I didn't know about him. But I realized… he's like me."

The last part of Iori's confession was so quiet, so young, so vulnerable. Like he was sharing information that was considered top secret, and he'd get into trouble if he got caught. The way he refused to meet anyone's eyes only proved it.

"...what do you mean?" Ken repeated gently.

"He's lonely and misunderstood."

Some part of Miyako felt unreasonably hurt by Iori's statement. It was selfish and stupid, but she couldn't control the wave of anguish that swept through her. She was his friend. She'd been his friend for a long time.

Except… having friends didn't mean you couldn't be lonely. Iori was her friend, yes, but he was at least three years younger than her, almost four. He never talked about having any other friends. He'd lost his father at a young age, and the digital world forced them to grow up earlier than they should have, but...

But Iori…

...and Takeru… and Ken… and Koushiro, and Mimi, and Taichi, and Jou, and Sora, Hikari, Yamato…

They'd been to the digital world before. They'd faced losses Miyako couldn't even imagine. The digital world always felt like a dream to her, but… but the older kids, they'd fought to survive.

How old had Takeru been? Seven? Eight? What would—

"...Yamato mentioned that, previously," Koushiro told them in a low, awkward voice. His shoulders were slumped like he was trapped somewhere in his studies and couldn't figure out how to move on. Interacting with people, she knew, was not his specialty. "Their, uh, their mother… hasn't been around."

Iori hummed, and Takeru's home life was not brought up again. Maybe that was out of respect—the Chosen all came from different situations and environments, after all. She was lucky enough to be raised in a family that was considered middle class. She had three siblings and her parents were happily married.

Iori didn't have a father and was an only child. It was just him, his mom, and his grandfather.

Ken had lost his brother, forcing him into the role of an only child. He'd been so pressured by his parents to follow in his late sibling's footsteps that it drove him, literally, inevitably, into insanity.

I've got no right to feel sad about this, she thought with a scowl as she looked back at the floor. I'm not the one struggling. Get a freaking grip. Do you know how selfish you sound right now?!

"I used to think the same thing, you know," Ken told the group softly. "About Daisuke."

Miyako was stubbornly blinking back tears. She had no right to cry. Instead, she swallowed with difficulty and croaked out, "...yeah?"

He nodded. "I thought… we're so different. I… sometimes I don't… remember… what I did. Sometimes it's just… black. And it's lonely there. I didn't want to drag Daisuke down into that darkness. I didn't want to… taint him. But…" A self-deprecating, dry chuckle. "...Daisuke doesn't listen. Daisuke only does what Daisuke wants. He marched up to that darkness, and he just pulled me right out."

"You know that's what this is all about, don't you?" Miyako spoke on instinct, without a filter, without even a sense of direction. The tears she so desperately blinked away rolled down her cheeks, hot and salty. "Hikari thought the same thing. She… she never talks about it, but I can feel it. I know she's always been haunted by something, even if she doesn't tell me what it is. I refuse to let her stay alone in that shadow. What kind of friends would we be if we just left each other in the dust?"

She hiccuped, wiping harshly at her eyes and nearly knocking her glasses off into her lap. "Don't you… don't you guys see that? Are you that freaking blind? We help each other out because you don't deserve to feel lonely! Nobody deserves that!"

"Miyako—" Ken began with a startled expression.

"I don't give a damn, Ken, about what you did," she went on without even acknowledging the fact that he was trying to get a word in. "Because it's obvious you'll never forgive yourself for it, and that's enough punishment in itself, isn't it? You can't tell me Daisuke doesn't see that. Yeah, he's annoying sometimes, and he gets on my nerves like nobody's business, but of course he'd climb down and pull you out! We're a team! That's what team mates do! That's what friends do!

"And… and I don't get it." She sniffled and rubbed her nose. "I'll probably never get it. My parents aren't divorced; they're together, and they're alive, and so are my siblings. And I didn't go to the digital world when the rest of you older kids did, Koushiro, so I can't say I know what it's like to play Kill or Be Killed. That… that sucks. I don't understand, and you guys don't have to talk about it like you know I don't understand. But… but let me freaking try, ok?"

The three boys were stunned into silence by her outburst, and despite that she kept brushing away the tears and choking down the sobs, her voice was still hoarse and the tears wouldn't stop. But she wasn't done.

"I'll be damned if I'm just gonna sit here and let you all suffer by yourselves. Friends help each other out, even when they're not asked to! That's why Daisuke cares so much about you, Ken, and that's why Takeru's your Jogress partner, Iori. Because they can… they can feel it regardless. There are things friends don't understand, but there are things we do get. So—"

She looked at Iori and Ken with a watered-down, red-webbed scowl.

"—so don't freaking act like we're just oblivious to your pain, ok? We're not. I'm… I'm not. I'm not."

Miyako was breathing heavily by the end of her speech, face most likely blotchy and red, but she didn't care. She didn't have the capacity to care at the moment. She couldn't just sit here and listen to her friends wander through this melancholic dark haze, and she couldn't just sit here and pity herself. If she didn't say anything, it'd kill her.

Still, the boys didn't respond right away. Miyako's gaze dropped down to her lap as she brushed away stray tears with the base of her palms, this time succeeding in knocking her glasses off her face.

The door creaked. Miyako didn't bother looking up. She'd probably made a lot of ruckus when she exploded, and so it wouldn't surprise her if Izumi-san—

"That's my girl."

Hikari. Hikari had returned, and she'd slipped through Koushiro's door. Before she closed it, though, she bowed politely and said, "Thank you for letting me in, Izumi-san."

Miyako blinked. She was dumb-founded, gaping at Hikari like she'd materialized out of thin air. It wasn't until she sat on Miyako's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning against her, that one of the boys finally spoke up.

"...I'm sorry," Iori said with his head bowed forward. Miyako swore she heard him sniffle, but she must have imagined it. He went on: "I'm sorry for being impolite. It was rude of me to—"

Miyako laughed wetly. "Iori. Have you met me?"

"We weren't trying to exclude you," Ken said, still looking stunned by her outburst. "I… I honestly didn't mean… to imply that you didn't understand."

Great. Now she felt like a jerk. "No, it… you didn't do it on purpose. I just—hey, wait, Hikari, you sneaky fox! How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you're completely right," she answered. Then, to Koushiro: "Any word from Yamato?"

Koushiro jumped like her words were tangible weapons that could cause him harm. Awkwardly, he sat up straight, clearing his throat and looking at his cell, which lay untouched his desk.

He tapped it twice to wake it up, and then sighed. "Ah, no, he… he hasn't responded just yet…"

"He's… at his mom's," Hikari said slowly, with a smile that whispered of sadness and sympathy. "They're together. Takeru… he messaged me, but he seemed happy, so I didn't bring up the pictures just yet…"

She trailed off, and once again they descended into silence. This time, it wasn't long before someone broke it.

"It's unavoidable, isn't it?" Ken whispered.

"...yeah," Hikari said with a nod. "It is. He's gonna find out. I think… I think Yamato's just trying to protect him, for the moment. That's probably why he hasn't said anything. He hasn't talked to his mom since he found out he was moving."

"...I see," Koushiro said, with a tinge of awkwardness still lingering in his voice.

"But also…" Hikari turned back to Miyako, her smile widening into something warmer. More gentle. "Miyako?"

"Hmm?"

"I… I think you're right. About everything you said."

Now that the adrenaline was fading, Miyako wasn't sure she felt the same. She laughed bitterly to herself. "I dunno. Sometimes I don't think before I open my mouth."

"I… I actually think you're right, too," Ken said, smiling apologetically at her. "I'm really lucky to have Daisuke, and all of you. I don't know where I'd be without you guys."

"Funny," Hikari said, giggling again. "Daisuke says the same thing about you."

"...he does?"

"Oh yeah," Miyako confirmed with a snort. "Have you seen how he acts when you're not around? He's like a lost puppy."

"Miyako," Hikari chided, patting her disapprovingly on the shoulder, but then she paused. "...actually. Daisuke acts a lot like a puppy. He's very loyal."

"And energetic," Iori said dryly, though a ghost of a smile graced his lips. "But very loyal."

"And if you leave him alone, he'll leave the house in a state of chaos," Miyako added.

"...that's also true."

"And he's also always wanting to jump around and play."

"And when he's done something he knows he couldn't have, he gives that puppy dog face. You know, the one that…"

Hikari paused to mimic a pouting face, which only made Miyako laugh harder and Iori smile wider.

"His energy is quite infectious," Koushiro added sheepishly.

"He's a good person," Ken concluded, with a soft, fond expression.

"As are you, you freaking dummy," Miyako said, shoving him playfully.

This. This was what she loved so much. This was what she was used to. Her friends, laughing and joking around. All they needed now was for Takeru and Daisuke to walk in and complete the circle.

"...guys?" Iori said abruptly, suddenly looking at Miyako with eyes that were all guilt and shame.

"Oh gosh, don't look at me like that," Miyako said. "We just established that that's Daisuke's face."

Iori's lips twitched, but he didn't smile again. "I… I just wanted to apologize to you, Miyako. You're… you're one of my closest friends, and I never meant to make you feel as if I was keeping secrets from you."

Her eyes burned again and she hastily looked away, cheeks burning. "Ugh. Ew. No, I'm not gonna cry again. That's not happening."

Even Ken chuckled at that. Hikari's arm suddenly disappeared from around her shoulder, and then she was being handed a box of tissues.

"Thanks," she said, plucking one out of the box to wipe her eyes. She had to get herself under control, lest she be without her glasses for the night.

"...I meant it, though," Iori went on slowly. "I… you know, back in… back when we first met our partners, and we were on the base…"

He didn't have to mention what base, or whose base it was. They all knew. Silently, Miyako reached over to rest a palm on the top of Ken's hand. "What about it?"

"I used to think that something was troubling him," Iori said. "Takeru, I mean. I wanted… to figure that out. I think it's like you said. Some things we don't understand… but we can still try to. But when the Jogress evolution happened for the first time… I just realized that it wasn't that I couldn't understand him. It wasn't that he was too mysterious or different. It wasn't that I couldn't help him. Actually, it was… the other way around. He's kind of the one who helped me. He made me see… that I'm like him."

A silence followed Iori's second confession. This one was solemn, but not awkward like the last. Hikari said, "He's always been like that. Helping people without even us realizing it."

"That must be why Yamato cares for him so deeply," Ken added wistfully. "He doesn't treat anyone else the way he treats Takeru."

"Don't tell him you know his soft spot," Miyako joked.

Hikari laughed, but then her expression softened. "I didn't know Yamato very well when I met him. He's… he's definitely not a people person, and he's the exact opposite of my Onii-san. He made me cry the first time he talked to me. But… he was always really great with Takeru. Takeru's the kind of person who brings out the brightest sides of people. He's kind of like… a charm that keeps the evil spirits away."

Part of her was astounded at the fact that Yamato would make a sweet girl like Hikari cry, but then, of course Yamato would make her cry. If she didn't know any better, she'd probably be intimidated by him, too. The only reason she wasn't was because, well. Miyako didn't really get intimidated by people.

Ruthless, powerful digimon that could kill her in a split second? For sure.

Suddenly Miyako's smile faded. Turned something a little milder than a frown, her expression growing pensive as she thought for a moment. Takeru… keeping spirits away…?

She was pretty certain Hikari's comparison should've been taken at face value. Surely she didn't mean that Takeru actually kept away any malevolent entities—he was only human, after all.

But… but Iori said…

He said it was like a stranger had walked out of the forest, she thought.

She imagined that thought as a puzzle piece, and scanned her brain for its respective slot. It was hard when they still had so many pieces scattered about.

She thought deeper. Furrowed her brows in concentration. Scanned the scattered pieces of the jigsaw once again, wondering if any other pieces were similar.

"I hear it in my head, sometimes."

Takeru admitted to hearing Bakumon's attack in his head. That… that meant he had to have heard it before, right? Words and events could attach themselves to people's memories just like a spirit attached to the site of a residual haunting.

Was something…?

Was something physically haunting Takeru…?

They knew something wasn't right. Takeru had admitted it himself, and Iori recently confirmed that the balance in the Jogress bond had shifted. It was only a theory that Mirrormon was the source…

Miyako wasn't that big of a horror fan. Mysteries were intriguing, sure, but she didn't obsess over them. But… but for someone to like Takeru—peaceful, friendly, "good charm" Takeru—to suddenly become a stranger to his Jogress partner…

...and for Yamato, his own brother, to be confused about his recent behavior and sleeping habits…

...and for even Hikari, his best friend, to be so impossibly concerned for Takeru's wellbeing that her worries lingered in Miyako's mind…

She scanned the internal jigsaw puzzle again. So many pieces lay in front of her and she'd made such little progress. Only the edge pieces were connected.

Wait…

There. She'd finally found the proper place for this piece.

"Oh my god," she whispered. Then her hand came up to tug on Hikari's arm with a sense of panicked urgency. "Guys. What if… what if Takeru's possessed?"

She hadn't even realized that she'd cut someone off. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't even know they were still talking to one another. Still, her question plunged them into silence once again, and they all stared at her with wide, anxious eyes.

She half-expected someone to burst out laughing. To call her crazy. If Daisuke was here… maybe that would have happened. But the four other teens in this room weren't the type of people who would do that.

"...by what?" Ken hedged.

"Mirrormon, of course!" She threw her arms up in the air, nearly whacking Ken in the face. "Koushiro! Look at those photos! We came here to discuss ideas about Mirrormon, didn't we? C'mon! Pull 'em up!"

Koushiro turned his attention back to the computer. "I'm going, I'm going!"

She shoved her misty glasses onto her face and practically leapt to her feet, stepping over Hikari and reaching Koushiro's computer in one long stride. "Go faster!"

"Miyako…" Iori hedged. "Yelling at him isn't going to end with the result you're hoping for. It will only make him nervous."

Miyako looked at him with the intention of shamelessly poking out her tongue, but stopped when she saw how pale Iori's face had become. He looked absolutely mortified.

"...hey. I'm not saying it's true," she said, suddenly stepping back from Koushiro's desk. "I'm just… we know that Bakumon's in one of these pictures. We know that Takeru saw him somewhere, somehow. If this is the Bakumon Takeru saw… but he's underground now… where is Mirrormon?"

"...we're not certain of that, yet," Koushiro said, abandoning the task Miyako had given him to look at her. "We—"

He cut himself off, as if mulling it over. Miyako prompted, "During our battle a few weeks ago, what did Mirrormon do?"

"...he controlled the other digimon and sent them after us," Ken said slowly, blinking.

"And where did Mirrormon go when he was in control of those digimon?"

Hikari gazed up at her, slowly figuring it out as well. "...he vanished."

"Because, because, because," Miyako persisted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Because he's Mirrormon! He's like a mirror! What are mirrors used for?"

"...to show reflections," Iori said, growing paler and paler by the second. "Wait, so—"

"The pictures," Koushiro gasped out with dinner-plated eyes.

"Right! The pictures!" Miyako whirled back around to face him. "You compared them to the ones in your database, right?"

Koushiro fell silent, but she knew by his expression that the gears in his brain were already turning. His eyes slowly found his screen again.

Despite the fun, light atmosphere Hikari's arrival had created, all traces of humor and good-natured teasing were now gone. When Hikari's eyes met hers, they were filled with a dreadful, haunting amount of fear.

"...we saw him yesterday," she murmured. "He smiled right at me. That was Takeru in there."

Her voice wavered. Bent and snapped like a bone, bringing with it a fresh wave of hysteria and excruciating pain.

And not just the physical kind. The kind of pain that sank down into her very core, soul-deep, with no existing medicine to grant relief.

"Hikari, I'm sorry," she said, with every ounce of sincerity in her body. "I'm… I'm not saying it's true. But…"

"But he's been having those memory spells," she said, each word coming out in slow, successive blows. Hitting the bruised and broken bone. Killing its chance at healing. "And he keeps spacing out…"

"So you're saying… Takeru is Mirrormon's next puppet?" Ken asked haltingly. "But he's not a digimon. Takeru's human."

"Mirrormon's a new enemy," Iori said woodenly. "We don't know what he's capable of."

Miyako frowned and swallowed. The adrenaline from unraveling this mystery was dropping again, sinking down her body. Down her hips, her legs, her feet. Into the floor. She wasn't sure she'd get it back.

It didn't matter if she'd finally found a place for this piece. Because she still hadn't solved the entire puzzle—there were still many more pieces scattered about, and she didn't know which part to work on next.

"...this is bad," she muttered. "Very bad. Right?"

Slowly, one by one, each of her friends nodded. Ken asked in a tight voice, "...what do we do now?"

Hikari sniffled. She was already pulling out her phone, but it was Iori who spoke next: "We call Yamato."

Ch 16 || Counterfeit (Can You Find It?)

As much as Takeru missed and loved his mother, and as glad as he was to reconcile with her, he was even more thankful to be out of her car and in the safety of his and his brother's bedroom. Today felt like it dragged on and zipped by simultaneously, and now that they were finally home again, Takeru was exhausted.

Before they parted ways, his mother gave him another hug. She initiated it. Wrapped her arms around him like she'd done it a thousand times, like he was five years old all over again. It wasn't that she never hugged him, she just… she wasn't around that often.

If she… if she cared about him this deeply, then… why didn't she show it?

No. He needed to let this go, and just appreciate what he had now. Being angry wasn't fun, and it wasn't going to make things better. It wasn't that he was denying himself the right to feel angry, but…

But being angry was draining.

It was probably why he was so exhausted now. Just like before, his emotions wanted to wreck him from the inside. Wanted to feed on his blood, draining him ounce by ounce, pint by pint. Didn't stop until he was weak and dizzy. Until very little remained.

Maybe it was anxiety from the car ride. Maybe something wasn't actually there, leeching off his energy. Because that'd be ridiculous, right? To have something vampiric buried underneath layers of flesh and muscle? It wasn't even that late in the evening, but Takeru was content to just crawl into bed and sleep until the latest hour of the morning.

Except… something wasn't right.

Yamato had barely breathed a word on the ride home. Takeru was too preoccupied with the deceptively simple tasks of keeping his dinner in his stomach and remembering how to breathe properly to pay much attention to it. Once they were in their room and away from the curious ears of their mother and the general public, however, it was hard not to notice.

"Nii-san, you're doing it again."

He was careful to keep his tone soft. No annoyance. No accusatory undertone. It was merely a statement, said with the sole purpose of getting his brother's attention.

"Yeah?" Yamato's tone, however, was distracted. Flippant. "Doing what?"

"Worrying," Takeru said with his brows raised. "You're going to give yourself grey hairs. And wrinkles."

"Teek. Does this face look like the kind that gets wrinkles?"

"No, but it does look worried."

Takeru smiled quietly as he spoke, hoping Yamato would see the humor in his words. Hoping he'd accept them as an invitation to talk. Wasn't it Yamato that told him that he was there to help Takeru when he struggled? Did he not think the same was true when their roles were reversed?

"...was it Mom?" he prompted hesitantly when Yamato remained silent. "Did she upset you?"

"No, kiddo. That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Yamato glanced down at Gabumon, and then at Patamon, and then back at Gabumon. Takeru looked down at the child-level digimon in his arms, and Patamon pushed himself into the air to find a comfortable spot on the bed.

"Yamato," Gabumon hedged tentatively. "The sooner we talk about it, the sooner we can figure out what is going on so we can fix it."

"I know that, Gabumon. Trust me, I know."

Takeru stayed quiet, awaiting an explanation. Seconds ticked by and nothing came, and that only made Takeru nervous.

"Nii-san?"

"Koushiro says he discovered something."

A pause. Takeru's eyes blew wide, heart plummeting so hard and so fast from its place under his ribs that he knew any attempt to slow its descent would fail. "...wh-what?"

"I was going to tell you, Takeru," Yamato said as he lowered himself on the bed. "I swear. It's just… you looked so happy, at Mom's. I didn't want to ruin that. You've had enough of a rough time as it is."

Some nearly-hidden part of him was touched. Deeply and genuinely, Takeru appreciated that Yamato wanted to protect Takeru's happiness for as long as he was able. It was so kind of Yamato to let Takeru just enjoy the moment while he could.

But… but to have that knowledge on his shoulders… how heavy of a burden was it? The hopeful side of his brain told him that it could be a positive discovery, but the haunted look on his brother's face killed that hope as soon as it appeared.

"But you were really tense," Takeru murmured with soulful, remorseful eyes. "I knew something was wrong."

"Can't hide anything from you, can I, bud?"

Yamato smiled as he said the words, but it didn't look like much of a smile at all. Instead, the gesture looked dry. Watered down with anxiety. Laced with sadness.

"I can handle it," Takeru assured him. "Honest."

"We did a lot today," Yamato said. "Don't you think… we should wait?"

The idea would have been tempting if he wasn't one-hundred percent certain of the fact that not knowing Koushiro's the details most recent discovery would cause him—and, inevitably, his older brother—just as much anxiety as knowing it would.

"I… I think that Gabumon's right," Takeru said slowly. "The sooner we figure things out, the sooner it'll be over. Don't you think so?"

For some reason unknown to Takeru, Yamato still looked afraid. That fear was like a disease—dangerous, deadly, and highly contagious.

Since Hikari had embraced him back in the digital world, the spider web in his brain, and its unidentified creator, had been shoved away. Its presence had weakened considerably, and though he wasn't sure why, he didn't have the energy to question it.

Listening to Yamato's rehearsal helped mute the voices continuously echoing in the back of his mind. Beat by beat.

Watching Yamato immerse himself into the world of his music helped snap the web apart. Thread by thread.

Making amends with his mother and feeling like an actual family again made his body feel like his own again. Pulse by pulse.

But all that progress didn't matter when fear returned, not even bothering to knock before it stormed in and wreaked havoc on his still-fragile mind. Fear could turn up the volume of those voices.

Fear could tape the web back together.

Fear could reattach the strings, learning how to control him once again.

"Takeru," Patamon said, reaching for Takeru's phone. "You have a message. It's from Hikari."

He'd set it on the bed when they came in and was so wrapped up in Yamato's confession that he'd forgotten all about it. Didn't even hear it go off.

Slowly, numbly, Takeru stepped toward the bed. The web was in the middle of reconstruction, but… but if he stayed near his friends—if he stayed near Yamato—it'd be fine, right?

He sat down between Patamon and his brother, gently taking his cell from Patamon's tiny paws. Patamon took one look at him and faithfully climbed into his lap, curling up like a cat. Even Gabumon nuzzled into his right knee.

Hikari's message read: Are you okay?

Yamato leaned in slightly as if to read the message. Takeru felt no reason to hide it, so he accepted the warmth of his brother and their digimon partners.

The construction paused. The strings slackened just a little.

"Did Koushiro tell you what they found?" he whispered without turning to face his brother.

"Not yet." Yamato's voice was now quiet and threaded with ribbons of fatigue. "I told him I'd get back to him."

"Tonight?"

"Whenever I felt like it."

"Nii-san," Takeru murmured with a frown of disapproval, but the twitching of his lips gave him away. Still, he continued, "Koushiro's very intelligent. One of the smartest people I know! I think… I think you should go easy on him. How many times has he pulled us out of a tough spot?"

Yamato paused for a few heartbeats and then expelled a long-suffering sigh. "...yeah. You're right. It's… it's just like… a puzzle to him, I guess."

"That's just the way his brain works," Takeru said patiently. "He's a genuinely good person, Nii-san. I've seen it. People express their feelings differently. Koushiro wants to figure this out just like we do."

Yamato looked like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue at the last possible second. Takeru waited again for him to speak, and when he didn't, he carried on, "I'm not saying… that you're wrong in any way. Please don't take it that way, Nii-san. Of course your feelings are valid. I'm just… Koushiro deserves a bit of credit, doesn't he? So he's not much of a people person, and he doesn't express himself well, but… but he's trying to figure it out, like the rest of us. I don't think he's prioritizing the case over any of our safety."

Another pause, but it didn't last as long. Eventually, Yamato leaned back slightly, reclining his back against the mattress. He rested an arm over his eyes. "I know. I know, I just… it'd be different if we knew where Mirrormon was. But we don't, and it feels like that gives him an advantage."

Gabumon hummed in agreement, though his eyes remained soulful and solemn. "The element of surprise."

"Exactly."

Patamon looked up at Takeru. Butted his head into Takeru's palm, coaxing his fingers to uncurl so he could pet him, and said, "We have something Mirrormon doesn't have."

"We do?" Takeru asked.

"For sure." His smile was small but proud and full of hope. "We have the power of the crests."

"...what if it's not enough?"

Yamato's words unleashed something cold and monstrous from his heart, something that swept suddenly, rapidly, completely, through the rest of his body. Through veins. Through muscle. Through bone. He said them so softly, so brokenly, that Takeru couldn't believe it was his older brother—his ever-cool, indestructible brother—who had spoken.

Yamato was scared.

Yamato was veridically, deeply, undeniably scared.

It was unfair of Takeru to think that he wouldn't be. Takeru didn't blame him. Before he could breathe a word, however, Patamon said, "It will be. I know it. I can feel it."

Then he turned back to Takeru, eyes sparkling. Those blue eyes were similar to his own. Like a mirror.

"We've done it before, right? We've always pulled through. We can do it again. Just you wait."

"He's right," Gabumon added gently. "There is always a period of time where we struggle with what to do, but we eventually find the answers we need. It's ok to be afraid, but we mustn't let that feeling control us. We mustn't give up."

Warmth. Warmth and violent, painfully cold chills, fighting for control. Takeru's fingers struggled to move on Patamon's head, and he couldn't really figure out why. Like some invisible force was holding him back. Like he'd lost the ability to move his body altogether.

The weird spell broke almost as fast as it came, and Takeru slowly gathered his partner in his arms, holding him to his chest. Focused on the sound of his own heartbeat, and imagined Patamon's sounding the same. Focused on the memory of Hikari's arms around his torso, chasing away the feeling of apathy and replacing it with the same kind of warmth that fought for purchase inside him now.

Focused on the warmth he felt as he watched his brother rehearse.

Focused on the warmth he felt as his mother embraced him.

Takeru smiled fondly down at his partner. Folded his legs up and leaned back next to his older brother, still holding his partner. Rested his head on Yamato's shoulder. It was a little awkward given Yamato's arms were still folded over his eyes. Wondered if the physical contact would soothe him, if only just a little. They weren't similar in that aspect—which was something Takeru himself didn't fully understand—but he had to do something.

Thankfully, the gesture had the desired effect. Yamato relaxed a little, but his next words weren't as comforting:

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, bud. I…" A pause. "I can't help but worry. You're… you know how important you are, right? If… if something happened..."

Takeru's throat constricted, trapping the warmth before it could travel any further. It built and built, and if it didn't find a place to go, it would, inevitably, force its way out. He wasn't sure if it would return.

And the undeterred ice inside him would consume him. Would render him frozen, entombed in a state of sleep paralysis, even in lucid, coherent wakefulness.

Except… was he awake? Or was he falling asleep? Could sleep paralysis happen while he was awake?

Just… breathe. Breathe. You can do that. You really can.

Still. Takeru had to fight back. Had to find some semblance of control, of normalcy. Clung to Patamon and tried his hardest to make his partner's optimism his own.

Excruciatingly slowly, it worked. Takeru drew in several deep, cleansing breaths, the warmth seeped through, and he murmured, "I… don't want anything to happen to you, either. You're…"

He couldn't say it. Not out loud. He knew deep down it wasn't true, but it felt like Yamato was the only one in their family who truly loved him. Like Yamato was the only one in their family who cared if he was left alone. Like Yamato was the only one who really cared if he ate, or slept, or drank enough water.

It was a false insecurity, a wound that only deepened and festered because his brain refused to let it heal. He knew his parents were really trying—more now than ever, which was further proven by the events of this evening—but it still hurt.

He didn't want to be angry, and at this point, he wasn't. He just ached, and he missed them, and sometimes it felt like he was the only one who couldn't move on. The only one who mourned the loss of a family he didn't even remember having.

"Takeru?" Patamon whispered. "Are you ok?"

"We have to get through this," he choked out. "We… we have to, Nii-san. I… spending time with you and Dad… even Mom, tonight… it's everything I've ever wanted. I can't… no. I won't accept that I've finally got something amazing, only for Mirrormon to take it away. You said it yourself. We'll take him down."

Yamato chuckled. "I said that, didn't I?"

"You said you'll take him down 'cause you're 'ruthless'."

He said it jokingly, lightly, if only to get the image of Yamato's distant expression—the one from the other day, when he first said the words—out of his mind. Present Yamato just looked at him with an owlish expression.

"You doubt my word?"

There. A spark of humor. A whisper of feigned hurt. Takeru couldn't help but laugh when he realized the solemnity in his brother's gaze was false. "Nii-san. You're the nicest person I know."

"I'm pretty sure nobody else agrees with you, Teek."

Gabumon's head popped above the edge of the bed, and he gazed at Yamato with stunned ruby eyes. "I agree with him, Yamato."

"I trust you a lot," Patamon chirped. "But Takeru's the nicest person I know."

Takeru's cheeks felt warm. "Patamon…"

This. Takeru made sure to savor this feeling, to cling to it with all his strength, and never let it go. To use it as an anchor when the web and its creator returned, when the puppeteer resumed in its mastery.

"Oh." Takeru sat up with such haste that it dizzied him. Even Patamon yelped in surprise. "I didn't respond to Hikari!"

Yamato sat up as well, with noticeably more reluctance than Takeru. "Guess I should… call Koushiro, huh?"

He was reaching in his pocket for his cell, and Takeru had his back in his hands. He didn't even remember putting it back on the bed—maybe he had done it reflexively as he talked to his brother?—but regardless, Hikari was awaiting the response.

Nii-san says Koushiro discovered something? he typed out.

Yamato muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse word. "Of course."

Patamon wiggled in Takeru's arms to face Yamato but didn't leave Takeru's lap. "What is it?"

Takeru's phone buzzed to life in his hands. From Hikari: Can we video call?

"I haven't looked at my phone since I got Koushiro's first message," Yamato admitted with a sigh. "He's sent multiple, which I kind of expected. The last one says he's at his apartment with some of the other kids."

"Which 'other kids'?" Gabumon asked.

From Hikari: I'm at Koushiro's now. Is it a good time? How are you?

"Hikari's with him," Takeru said. "I don't know how else."

"Apparently Miyako is, too," Yamato added. "And Ken and Iori."

"That's cool," Patamon said. "Just you and Daisuke and it would've been the whole younger team!" And then, after a wince, and in a stage-whisper: "I'm glad Koushiro's got Ken and Iori to keep him sane."

"Patamon," Takeru chided as he typed a reply back to Hikari. "That's not nice."

From Takeru: I'm ok, thanks for asking. I hope you're ok too? Video call sounds fine. Gonna warn you tho, don't point out Nii-san's worry wrinkles lol

From Hikari: :P I wouldn't dare

Moments later, Hikari's name lit up on the screen. Yamato looked at him curiously, but Takeru swiped 'accept' before giving an explanation, and the teasing, bubbly atmosphere shifted back into something darker. Colder. Gut-wrenching.

Hikari looked like she'd been crying.

Hikari, who had just texted him back teasingly, who hadn't answered his echo of her question, had been crying. She looked extremely troubled, with a slightly reddened nose and puffy, darkly-ringed eyes. Like she hadn't slept at all the night before.

Takeru's smile faded, and with it went the warmth in his chest, and the already-slim hope that this discovery could be anything remotely positive. His heart had just recovered from its fall and had finally reached its normal place again, but now it was gone. Sinking lower. Lower. Phasing through skin and exiting his body.

"What's wrong?" His voice barely reached a whisper. "Your eyes are…"

There was a crunching, ruffling noise as Hikari aimed the camera away from her face. Yamato instantly looked over Takeru's shoulder to see, but before he or either of their digimon could question it, Hikari said with a watery chuckle, "You… you can tell, huh? I thought I recovered enough."

Takeru's frown deepened. "What happened?"

More shuffling. Miyako's face appeared on the screen, and she said, "I… I have a theory, but… I'm not sure if you'll like it."

From the other side of what was presumably Koushiro's bedroom: "Did Yamato look at the attachments I sent him via text? I was going to send an email, but I assumed—"

Miyako faced the screen again. "Koushiro wants to know if—"

"I heard him," Yamato said stonily. "I got the pics, but I haven't opened them yet."

"Ok, rude," Miyako muttered. "I didn't even get to finish. But I'll let it slide given the situation."

Takeru studied Miyako's expression through the screen, noticing that her eyes were slightly pink and swollen, too. He swallowed with difficulty, scrambling to figure out how to breathe again.

His heart had called an emergency evacuation. Now his lungs and everything else craved escape, desperate enough to take the fastest route possible without any concern about how it would affect the rest of his body.

Would everything leave? Would the puppeteer have everything it needed to fully control him? If he was completely hollow inside, like the shell of a doll? Would he remember anything, or would it be similar to his sleepwalking episode?

Gone was his determination to take back what was rightfully his. Gone was his courage to put up a fight. Gone was the warmth and hope to which he desperately clung.

Because something was wrong.

Something was wrong, and Takeru was agonizingly, banefully aware of it. Every inch of him wanted out, out, out. Like they thought his body was no longer a safe place to call home.

"—de. Hey. Takeru? Takeru?"

Miyako's voice snapped him back into the present.

"Teek?" Yamato whispered.

Gabumon and Patamon were gazing at him worriedly. When did Gabumon get on the bed? Takeru blinked several times to focus his vision, and he realized then that five different faces were crammed together on one screen: Iori, Hikari, Ken, Koushiro, and the speaker herself, Miyako.

All of them were wide-eyed. Concerned. Yamato's hand came to rest on his back, and Patamon and Gabumon sat on either side of him with identical expressions of fear.

Takeru shivered, inexplicably cold. He was surrounded by beings who were constantly warm, but he was covered in goosebumps nonetheless.

"What?" Takeru croaked, still blinking.

"Everything ok?" Yamato asked. "We've been talking to you for almost a minute. Are… are you cold?"

His hand moved away from Takeru's spine to rub his arm.

His vision cleared slightly. Abruptly, everything rushed back into place. Unbroken. Steady. The force of the change left him dizzy once again, and without even thinking, he leaned into Yamato's warmth. Then, breathlessly: "I-it's cold, yeah."

"Did… did you hear what Miyako said?" Iori asked, eyes slightly hazy. Takeru couldn't tell whether or not that was just the camera on Hikari's phone.

"Sorry," Takeru murmured, suddenly lacking the energy to even feel ashamed. "I didn't."

"That's… ok," Miyako said slowly, and even she looked slightly dazed. "I just asked if you could compare the pictures for us. See what you noticed."

Gabumon gasped in shock. "So there are differences?"

"I'm afraid so," Koushiro told them regretfully. "Now—"

"Wait, why do you need us to look at them?" Yamato said, his voice sharp. "Why can't you just tell us? Spit it out already."

"We just need confirmation," Ken said gently, quietly. "That's all."

For some reason, Ken was able to lure Yamato into silence. Takeru swallowed again. His heart was beating so fast. Picking up momentum like a predatory animal initiating the final step in its plan to feed: the chase.

"Ok," Takeru said, despite the fact that his mind and body were screaming that this was anything but ok. "I'm ready."

Shuffling. Takeru watched and listened as their view of their friends and Koushiro's room became distorted. Everyone was moving around. He barely caught glimpses of Hikari's face. Of her hair. Of her shirt.

"Are you able to open it on your phone?" came Koushiro's voice from a place that neither of the brothers could see. "The photos? I screenshotted them side by side so you would have an easier time comparing the two, but if it's too small on your screen—"

"No," Yamato said. His voice was strangely wooden. Flat. Added, "I can see it just fine. Takeru?"

Takeru looked from his screen over to Yamato's. Heard Hikari say, "We're looking at them, too."

"What do you notice?" Koushiro hedged.

"Give me a damn second," Yamato said, though the softness of his voice neutralized the heat in his words.

It seemed, as dramatic as it sounded, that they were waiting on Takeru's response with bated breath. He squinted to enhance his focus, leaning away from the camera of his own phone to study the image.

At first, he wasn't quite sure there were any differences, except that His eyes darted back and forth, back and forth between the photos. Scanning. Searching. Searching. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch. But he couldn't—

Wait a minute.

Oh.

Takeru's eyes popped, and he sucked in a sharp breath without even realizing it. The shock of this discovery shifted into fascination. Fascination into confusion.

Confusion into horror.

"The rings," Takeru rasped, goosebumps pebbling, from head to toe. "They're on opposite legs."

"Precisely," Koushiro said.

"...what does it mean?" Yamato pressed after a moment's pause.

Shuffling. Some indistinct, muffled murmuring. Takeru's gaze snapped back to his own screen to see a Hikari's thumb brush over the camera, but it was gone a moment later, revealing her anxious expression.

"I did some digging," Koushiro answered, his voice followed by the clicking and tapping of his keyboard. "The Bakumon Miyako mentioned looks identical to the one on Hikari's camera. I asked for the D3s belonging to Iori, Hikari, Daisuke, and, of course, Miyako, just so I could search through their encounter history, and they're the same; but the one on your D3, Takeru… it's different. Look at the symbols."

Takeru obeyed, his heart beating faster and faster as he repeated the process from before: scanning, searching, examining.

"What the hell?" Yamato muttered.

Reversed.

The markings on the second Bakumon—the digimon from Hikari's camera—were reversed from the ones in the first photo. Just like they would if the original was looking in a mirror.

Colder. Colder. It was summer, and their apartment was already naturally warm, but Takeru couldn't escape the invigorated chill that accompanied this newfound piece of knowledge. He didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't—

Except he didn't need to. Because at that moment, Patamon said, "It's a reflection."

"My thoughts exactly," Koushiro said. "I… I also studied your most recent encounter of Kuwagamon, Takeru, and compared it to a previous one on the database…"

Clicking. Rapid tapping. Koushiro's keyboard again.

Hikari faced the camera toward Koushiro's computer screen, stepping in close to give them the best view she could. The screen was still a little blurry, the camera refusing to focus on the words or pictures on his computer. Takeru couldn't really read it, but then, he didn't have to.

Koushiro concluded, "I found the same types of differences between them, as well. The features—markings, symbols, jewelry, or any other distinguishable characteristics on their bodies—mirrored the original. The same was true for… for the other digimon, excluding Floramon. Though the explanation for that is quite simple: none of us saw the Floramon whom Mirrormon enslaved before he moved onto another digimon."

"What… what does it mean, though?" Takeru echoed his brother's words.

He already knew. He'd already figured it out, but denial weighed heavily in his heart. It whispered traitorously of small, false reassurances. Whispered, It's unconfirmed.

Whispered, Lack of confirmation means hope.

Whispered, Hope means… means he's not there. It means it's not him. Not him.

Like an echo: Not him, not him, not him.

"We're not quite certain of it," Koushiro went on, oblivious to his turmoil, "but… Miyako's got a theory."

"I don't like the sound of that," Patamon said, anxiously shifting by Takeru's side.

"Neither do I," Yamato said, his voice low. "But… but if the Bakumon on Hikari's camera is the real thing, then… the one on Takeru's digivice…"

"...is a reflection?" Gabumon finished hesitantly when Yamato stopped. "A counterfeit?"

"You think he was created by Mirrormon?" Patamon asked fretfully.

It was then that Koushiro quieted, though, for what reason, Takeru didn't know. Miyako was the one who answered him.

"We think…" She drew in a deep breath, like she was preparing herself. "...at least, it's possible that… those digimon were Mirrormon. Maybe… Mirrormon mutated himself to look like them. He took their forms, and… and controlled them from the inside."

His brother, he realized, was just as tense as Takeru was. The only thing anchoring Takeru was the presence of Yamato and their digimon. It was the only thing keeping from freezing to death. Takeru shivered. Murmured, "Nii-san…"

He wasn't even paying attention either of their phones anymore. The muffled shuffling noises fell mute. Their voices sounded like they were underwater.

"Nii-san," he repeated, another shudder crawling down his spine. He wanted to scream it, but all that came out was a breathy whisper.

"I am a holy digimon, after all."

The puppeteer. The spider who spun the web. Takeru could only vaguely recall the voice of the speaker whose words echoed in his head, but something…

"Usually, he is meant to soothe those whose sleep has been disturbed by nightmares and other such things."

...something was really, truly there…

"I have heard a lot of things in my time here."

...warping his view of reality itself…

Nii-san...

"He helps others sleep peacefully."

...manipulating threads, muscles, thoughts, bones…

"Let's get you out of this forest, shall we?"

...chilling his blood, draining him, freezing him from the inside…

"But an unholy Bakumon, corrupted by evil and greed…"

...help me…!

...stealing his perception of time, his warmth, his lucidity…

"...he steals the good dreams and traps them in an endless nightmare."

It wasn't his imagination. It wasn't Takeru being ridiculous or paranoid. There was something inside him, and he had no idea how to get rid of it.

"Onii-san!"

He didn't mean to yell out so loudly. It was like he was trying to expel every bad, harmful thing in his body with that one name. Like it was enough to completely, irreversibly eradicate the infestation of whatever had made a new home out of his body.

"I'm right here," Yamato said, sounding just as frightened as Takeru felt. "I've… I've been right here this entire time. Ok? Takeru? Can you see me?"

"Is he ok?" came Hikari's quivering, choked voice. "Yamato... please, can you unmute?"

His phone. They were in the middle of a video call. He didn't remember dropping or moving his phone, but the device was no longer in his hand.

Dazedly, Takeru followed the sound of his best friend's voice. His cell was now on the other side of Yamato, facing up. All his friends could see was their bedroom ceiling.

"Nii-san," he tried again, pleading with every cell, every fiber, every part in him that could, because he ached for this to just end. "Please… please get him out. Please."

Gabumon secured a blanket around him, and Patamon curled up against his neck. The phone remained on Yamato's other side. None of them acknowledged it. Instead, Yamato's grip on him tightened. Tucked Takeru's head under his chin, thawing him out.

And he whispered, "I'm working on it, buddy."

Ch 17 || Down the Rabbit Hole

Hikari couldn't sleep that night.

She could still hear Takeru's screams ringing in her head. Could still hear the haunting break in his voice as he started calling for his brother, like he wasn't right next to him. Could remember the way she and her friends jumped, startled by the abruptness of the sound. Could remember the muffled clunk as Takeru's phone slipped away from the safety of his fingers.

Yamato caught it. And then he muted the call, probably in a rushed attempt to hang up, and the next thing she knew, she was staring at the ceiling of their bedroom.

No sound emitted from their side of the phone. But the pounding of her heart, the harshness of her own breath rushing in and out of her lungs, and the incredibly vivid memory of the whole episode were enough to torment her all night like she had heard every single word.

Her first instinct was to rush over to their home. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy, and maybe it was crossing a line. Takeru was her best friend, of course, but that didn't mean he didn't have boundaries.

But… but she couldn't help it. She learned in a matter of hours that one of her closest friends was likely possessed by a sinister entity, and then to have another episode of screaming like that in front of her?

It made her shake.

It stole her breath.

It drove her mad.

It was almost as if the insanity of whatever was haunting Takeru was spreading, rapidly, to her own brain. Pulsating. Festering. Infecting each and every corner, dripping from the top of her skull to the rest of her body. Down her neck. Down her collarbone and shoulders. Down her torso, her legs, into the very tips of her toes.

It was this madness, this infection, that kept her awake until the early hours of the morning. Every time she came close to drifting off, the slightest sound set her off again.

Taichi shifted and rolled over on the bunk below her. It snapped her back into alertness.

Her mother's footsteps outside her bedroom door as she checked on them in the middle of the night. It chewed at her fatigue until nothing was left.

The rattling of wind on her bedroom window. It renewed the cycle of her racing thoughts.

The only thing that had stopped her from bolting over to Takeru and Yamato's place was the group of Chosen surrounding her when the video call ended. She was on the verge of tears when it disconnected, her body itching to move, to find out what in the world was parasitizing her best friend.

Miyako offered to stay with her that night. She'd also offered her own bed to Hikari if she didn't want to go home. But Hikari's head was a jumbled mess and—as bad of an idea that it was—she wanted to attempt to sort it out herself.

Anxiety, she knew, could only drive someone deeper into the dark realm of hysteria. Sometimes it was easier to avoid the rabbit hole if she had someone to anchor her. But her thoughts could also be addicting, and even though she did have someone with her—Taichi slept on the bunk underneath her own—she couldn't bring herself to talk about it.

Because she didn't know how.

Taichi already knew what was going on. Taichi already knew something was wrong with Takeru. But things just…

Things suddenly felt like they were spiraling out of control. Everything was wrong. Everything was bad. Taichi was already doing all he could, but how could they cleanse the toxicity in Takeru's body if, every time they approached the issue, they lost their chance because Takeru became incoherent?

She didn't know what to do. She knew what she wanted to do, but she didn't know how to do it.

Hikari hated feeling so impossibly, parlously helpless.

It was sometime after four in the morning that her whirling mind finally quieted enough for her to answer the call of slumber. Even then, she slept fitfully, and her brother—her nine-hours-of-sleep-a-night, unable-to-function-with-anything-less brother—was awake before she was.

"Mm?" Her throat felt achy and her eyes hurt, but this didn't feel like sickness. Just lack of sleep. "...Nii-san?"

"Mornin', sis," Taichi said softly. "It's almost ten. You good?"

Hikari's sleep-fogged brain had a difficult time grasping and processing his words. Her bed was always traitorously comfortable upon waking up, and it didn't make the task of leaving it any easier.

She hummed again, not even opening her eyes. The ladder creaked, but Hikari's body remained reluctant to move, desperately clinging to those last few threads of sleep, if only so she wouldn't have to face the hellish swamp of a monster her thoughts had created.

"Hikari?" A palm came to rest on her ankle. "C'mon, Hika, you're usually up before me."

He said the words teasingly, but a concerned undertone was wedged somewhere in his voice. Taichi wasn't the type of person to mask his worries the way she did—no, he wore everything on his sleeve.

When he was uncertain, she knew.

When he was upset, she knew.

When he was concerned, she knew.

When he was frustrated, she knew.

So when she heard that little, almost-masterfully hidden drop of anxiety in his words, her stomach rolled uncomfortably. His drop of anxiety was a tiny grain of sand compared to the massive cesspool of nerves and unease, and yet she heard it so easily, clear as day.

Slowly, and against her body's wishes, Hikari peeled her eyes open. Turned her webbed gaze in the direction of her brother, vision swimming as she struggled to focus on his face.

"Nn?" was all she could manage.

"You ok?"

If it really was nearing ten in the morning, and she'd fallen asleep around four, that gave her some sleep. Why did it feel like she hadn't slept at all? She wasn't sure, but she did know that it wasn't at all pleasant.

Groggily, she rubbed an eye. The same creaking noise followed, and then a cool hand touched the base of her forehead. Her cheek. Her neck.

"M'not sick, Nii-san," she murmured.

"You always tell me that when you're sick," Taichi argued. "I can make you some broth? I'll text Yamato and let him know—"

The grogginess scattered like flower petals. Hikari bolted up so fast it dizzied her, and when her eyes snapped open, the room spun endlessly, but she somehow managed to pin her brother with her gaze, alert and afraid. "What's wrong with Yamato?"

Taichi pursed his lips. After a moment, he sighed. "...you're not gonna let me wiggle out of this one, huh?"

"It's about Takeru, isn't it?"

Of course it was. It had to be. How could Takeru have an episode like that and Yamato act like everything was fine? Yamato had to be worried out of his mind. Yamato had been worried about Takeru since the day he'd realized that he wasn't with the rest of them during their first encounter with Mirrormon.

With good reason. Who wouldn't be worried about a friend or relative experiencing things that Takeru was currently experiencing?

"Hika, if you're not feeling well—" Taichi started.

"I'm fine," she said. And then, when her brother gave her a skeptic look: "I just didn't sleep well, alright? It's nothing. Please tell me what's going on."

"Did you not sleep well because of the same reason Takeru and Yamato didn't sleep well?"

"They didn't sleep well?" Her heart sank. "Did… did he sleepwalk again? Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, Onii-san—"

"Hey. Hey. Hikari. Hey, it's alright—"

"It is not alright, Nii-san." Tears sprang at her eyes and she lacked the self-control to even attempt to hide them. "H...how could you say it's alright? Takeru is in trouble. Mirrormon is—"

"I know." Taichi's expression was grave, blending ominously with the solemnity in his voice to create a chill that sank into her very core. "I know, that's… that's not what I meant, ok? I… god. I just. It will be alright, do you hear me? Hika, don't… don't cry…"

It was too late. The tears were already rolling. She kicked the covers off her body in a frenzied rush, not even waiting for the world to stop spinning. Not even waiting for her brain to catch up. Plunging on without stability may have been a risky move, but every part of her was already under attack. She didn't have time to wait.

She had to act fast.

She had to get to Takeru and Yamato's place. She had to see them for herself.

"Hikari, hey, slow down—"

"Let me through, Nii-san," she persisted. "We have to get going."

"Not until you let me explain."

She paused only to glare at him, but she knew immediately that the effect was lost with no hope of revival. She probably looked horrible. Pathetic, even, with her hair in disarray, eyes watery and webbed with exhaustion, and cheeks stained with tears.

Still, she was too stubborn to stop, even when she knew her attempt at intimidating her brother with her gaze was pitiful. Even when she knew he could easily stop her if she tried to move past him.

"It wasn't sleepwalking last night," Taichi said hastily, like he was aware of the way her skin itched and crawled to get down from the bed. "It was… in the evening. During your call. You know, the one… you didn't tell me about?"

Her throat suddenly felt like a desert. Like the infection had taken every last drop of what made her body thrive. Filled it with diseased sores and abnormalities that her immune system could not fight off. She swallowed hard to moisten it, but all that did was make her aware of the knot that had made itself a home in her esophagus.

"I did tell you," she murmured weakly, feebly, losing all drive to fight.

"You didn't tell me… the details?"

She had no answer for that. She couldn't deny it because it was true. But what was she supposed to say? It was the exact same loop she'd been trapped in all night. She didn't want to admit it out loud because then she'd have to talk about the possibility of her best friend being possessed again and she wasn't sure if she could handle that.

Because then they'd gather more evidence and she'd have to accept their theory as fact.

Because then she'd have to accept that their time limit was a lot shorter than she thought it was.

Because then she'd have to consider the possibility…

No. No. That wasn't a possibility. It wasn't. It was—

"It was... really bad," she said around a hiccup. "He was just… screaming… out of nowhere. And Yamato wouldn't tell us what happened… he wouldn't let us talk to Takeru. How was I s-supposed to tell anyone if I didn't know myself? We didn't… even know what to do."

Guilt swam in Taichi's eyes. "Sorry. I… I wasn't accusing you. I just… I don't know, I wish I'd known so you didn't have to carry that all by yourself, you know?"

Hikari swallowed again. The knot seemed even bigger than before. She nodded anyway, doing her best to pretend it wasn't there.

"C'mon. Are you hungry? You should eat before you—"

The thought of eating—no matter how basic and how necessary of a need eating was—made her stomach churn. Made her entire body inwardly convulse like it knew something vile existed inside of her that needed purging.

She shook her head immediately. "N-no. I just… not until I talk to them."

Taichi eyed her as if he knew there was no point in arguing, but she could tell he didn't like her response. Not that she was giving him much of a choice.

"Will you try to eat something when we're there?"

Her stomach rolled uncomfortably and she swallowed. She nodded once more against her better judgment. Watched as Taichi stepped down from the ladder. Knew her protesting body would have to follow in suit to get dressed.

Wondered, not for the first time, if this was how Takeru felt.

Trapped in a hole with no way out.

When Hikari and Taichi got there, Yamato texted them with the instructions to come in without knocking, and to do so quietly. Hikari was filled with dread at first, and she wasn't even sure why—confusion, maybe. Anticipation. Her nerves were like insects underneath her skin, thrumming and pulsating.

Then they stepped inside, where the lights were dim enough to shock her for a moment. It was disorienting to walk from one area that was extremely bright and sunny to another that was poorly lit, all mystery and shadow.

It soon became apparent, though, why all the flat had basically become a dusky counterpart to the outdoors.

Takeru was asleep.

"Sorry," Yamato murmured, practically bleeding exhaustion. He rubbed his temple, sipping something out of a mug. It smelled like coffee. "We've… well, he's been up all night. Finally got him to sleep, after I sent…"

"Do you want to talk to the others another time?" Taichi asked, keeping his voice low when Yamato left the sentence hanging.

"We don't have time to do that."

A pause. "Right. Of course."

"Why was he up all night?" Hikari was almost afraid to ask.

Yamato went quiet. Then he sighed, tracing the rim of his mug with the pad of his index finger. It was like he'd given up trying to hide any sort of information, and she didn't blame him—what point did hiding have? What would that solve? It would make everything worse.

"He was afraid of what would happen if he slept."

Hikari swallowed nervously, the thrumming and pulsating growing stronger and more intense by the second. The only thing keeping her grounded at the moment was the fact that they still had Takeru—sleeping or not sleeping—with them, in the next room.

She didn't know what she'd do if he disappeared.

"I don't blame him," she muttered, a shiver crawling up her spine as she forced the previous thought out of her mind.

Another silence ensued, and she wasn't sure how to fill it. She couldn't reassure Yamato that it was going to be ok because she wasn't sure if it was going to be. She couldn't tell Takeru things would be fine because she didn't know, and he wasn't awake to listen. Or…

Or maybe she could still talk to him?

The thought entered her brain and refused to leave until she paid attention to it. Climbed down into this hole with her with a promise of finding a way out.

"Can I see him?" she whispered, unable to resist the urge to give that thought a voice. "I'll be quiet. I promise."

Yamato hesitated for an achingly long moment. Then, quietly: "It took me hours to get him to sleep."

"I know," Hikari said sincerely, but she couldn't help it. After last night, she had to see that her best friend was alright with her own two eyes. She had to see the physical evidence. "Please?"

"She didn't sleep much, either," Taichi said in a grave voice that made her hold back a wince. She had hoped it wasn't too obvious, and that he wouldn't bring it up. "She's just worried."

Then Yamato studied her face, and even in the dimness of the flat, Hikari struggled not to shift under the weight of his gaze. There was something about the look in his eyes that made her believe that this horrible, infectious madness spreading through her was coursing through him, too.

It was frightening what lack of sleep could do to the mind.

"Fine," he relented finally, taking another sip of his coffee. "Come get me if you need me, ok?"

She nodded mutely, understanding the true meaning behind those words: Come get me if he needs me.

"And try to get some sleep, too, if you can," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I'll… I'll clue you in later."

Another soundless nod. She turned to face the open bedroom door, which was half-open, and when she heard her brother ask if they were the first ones here, she couldn't focus on Yamato's response. Instead, she plunged into Yamato and Takeru's bedroom.

It was strange. She'd been in Takeru's bedroom many times before, but very rarely had she been in Yamato's—even now that they shared a room and an apartment, it felt so odd. After all, she didn't know very well the side of Yamato that Takeru did.

Still…

She almost whispered his name. Caught herself as soon as her lips parted to speak. Part of her knew that she should just let him sleep—what if she startled him into wakefulness, by accident? Her mind told her to leave him be, but her heart pulled her in toward him.

Maybe it'll solve everything, her heart said. Maybe all I need to do is talk to him.

It didn't matter if he was asleep. Ever since Mirrormon entered the picture, his responses and behavior were linked to that of a sleepwalking person. If she talked to him while he was awake, what difference would it make?

Maybe he'd still hear her voice.

Maybe she could learn something.

Maybe she wouldn't like what she learned.

Maybe she didn't have a choice.

"Hey."

This time, she couldn't stop herself. The word came out without her control. And once it did, she just kept going—sentence after sentence was purged from her body like speaking would destroy the source of her infection.

"I… I hope you're ok. Yamato… he says you didn't sleep very well." A heavy, anxious swallow. Patamon looked up like a curious cat from his place on Takeru's hip, but her gaze remained fixed on Takeru. "I don't blame you. Last night… last night must've been really scary."

Gabumon's ruby eyes looked up at her, too, and then back down at Takeru when he realized whom she was addressing. Then he scooted over a little and gestured for her to sit.

Part of her was grateful for a chance to rest her legs. Another part of her itched to stand, just to keep herself awake. Would moving to sit on the bed cause too much jostling? Would it wake him? She wasn't sure, and maybe that's why she hesitated to move, but her voice continued regardless.

"I thought it was scary, too. I thought…"

A knot formed in her throat. Growing bigger.

"We thought he was actually hurting you."

Bigger.

"And all we could do was just sit there, you know? We weren't sure what to do.

Bigger.

"And… I'm sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't help you."

Her heart wouldn't let her stop. Words rolled off her tongue as if he could converse with her, and she didn't know why. She'd always heard that when people were in a coma, they could still hear you when you talked to them. Maybe that was her end goal—the perhaps naive wish that he could hear her, and when he woke up they could rediscuss.

He wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't, and yet she talked anyway. The conversation carried one-sided in soft, shuddering whispers and hitched breaths as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. Eventually, Gabumon lay his palm on her knee, and she nearly jumped when another hand—a distinctly human hand—made contact with her shoulder.

She'd been reluctant to get on the bed, but her brain was so focused on talking to Takeru that she must've sat down instinctively. When she turned her head, Iori stood there with a pensive expression on his face.

"He's asleep," she said instantly. Quietly.

"I see," Iori murmured. "Yamato told me."

"I thought… he'd still hear me, somehow." It felt silly saying it aloud. She gazed down at her hands, only able to see their faint outline in the dimness of the bedroom. Still, there was enough light she'd recognized Iori, even if she didn't hear him come in. "Maybe I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid."

"I just want to help him."

Iori paused, hand tensing on her shoulder. It was then that she realized that, despite knowing each other for several years now, she and Iori weren't that close. Miyako was one of his closest friends, and Miyako was one of her closest friends. He was Takeru's Jogress partner, and she was Takeru's best friend. But they hardly spent time together, with just the two of them.

Yet somehow, the air between them wasn't awkward. They still had that strong foundation supporting their friendship—the closeness of Miyako and Takeru. But then, Miyako and Takeru seemed to have a better time making friends than she did.

Or at least… at first glance. In reality, Miyako sometimes came off as too abrasive or brash. Takeru was the exact opposite—for all his smiles and grins, Takeru was painfully shy. It was hard to tell what was genuine and what was instinct.

"It drives you insane, doesn't it?"

Her head snapped back up. "What?"

"Knowing something's wrong."

The infection was in her throat. In her nasal cavities. In her ears, in her tonsils, burrowing their way into her eye sockets. Her fists clenched in her lap like the tightening of her muscles would stop it from spreading, but it was far too late.

Even if the infection stopped, nothing in her body could be salvaged. This madness—this haunting, parasitic, poisonous madness—had taken everything.

"Yeah," she said, voice cracking. "It does."

Slowly, he released her shoulder, drawing his hand back to his side. "I… I had an idea after last night."

She glanced at him, eyes widening as her heart skipped a beat, daring to believe there was hope. Repeated in the same cracking voice, "Wh-what?"

"I was going to ask Yamato first," he went on, "but he mentioned that Takeru was asleep… and he seemed adamant not to wake him. Then I heard you talking to him. And it… it made me realize something."

"Iori, what are you talking about?"

"We know Mirrormon's there." Even in the darkness, his gaze was ominous and piercing. Something odd lingered there—something between familiarity and stranger, between sanity and madness, but not quite one or the other. "I know he's there."

Her heart plummeted. Sinking and sinking through dark paths of decay. "...yeah?"

"So we talk to Mirrormon through Takeru," Iori said with an even stare. "And we help Takeru realize who is still in control."