Generations

“We could....sing a song? Or play a game. You know, there’s ten of us, we could play Telephone.”

“Dai-chan,” Os sighed, “please, be quiet. This is serious, and we need to think of a plan of action.”

Dai pursed his lips, but was silent. He noticed a rock out of the corner of his eye and began to kick it with him as he walked. The rock tumbled down the path, making bits of dust fly upwards. Not high, only an inch or two.

“Indeed,” Hawkmon said.

“So what do we know so far...” Hi began. “Number One: We’re here, that in itself tells us something’s up. Number Two: We’ve been attacked twice, the first time we were mildly at fault but it was really no big deal.”

“The second was completely random,” Dai spoke up.

“We know, we know,” Os sighed, annoyed. “You didn’t do anything Dai-chan. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

“I wasn’t being defensive,” Dai said, now defending his actions, “I was contributing to the conversation.”

Rei looked up at her brother, silently. Dai thought maybe he should to the same: shut up. No one wanted to hear him. Os and Hi continued their ‘planning’ session, though in reality all it amounted to was the two of them repeating the same things over again. It’s not going to mean anything more the fourth time. Dai just began kicking the rock again. If anything, he hoped the others would be able to get them home somehow.

Rookmon nudged Dai’s hand. He looked down at the digimon and forced a smile. It’s not that bad, he tried to convey, it’s really not. Of course, to Dai it was. Sure, he had his brother and sisters and a bunch of digimon with him, but that didn’t make him feel better about anything that was going on. It didn’t take away the feeling that he was drowning in a sea of responsibility that he couldn’t handle. It didn’t make him forget that he had never been away from home this long. All it could remind him of was he was the useless one, the joker. The one who tried to push life away when he couldn’t handle it. All his life he had pulled Hi down but now she was taking her rightful place up front. Os was the leader, Hi was second-in-command, Aba was the baby that they all had to look out for. Making Dai ...what?

‘Chess prodigy’ has no useful life applications.

So they continued, Os and Hi taking--still saying the same things. Rei being quiet, maybe unaware. And Dai...Dai wanting to cry and scream and rail. But he couldn’t. The position of ‘whining little crybaby’ was occupied.

Evening approached, evening that would lead into the third night of sleeping against trees and in the dirt. While the sun was still high in the sky, however, the children and their companions had entered a thick wood. Os, for some reason he was permitted to make smartass remarks, had asked if there were any towns in the Digital World. The subject had been dropped when the ever-literal Sunmon began spouting population statistics while the rest of the group sweatdropped.

As evening approached in a steadily growing darker wood, Ichijouji Rei proved once and for all that she was indeed aware. Os had thought Aba to be entrusting her care into the hands of her siblings; Hi had been under the impression she was frightened; Dai believed she was giving her siblings what they wanted--a silence in which they could stroke their egos, as he was allowing them. But one thing the elder three had somehow agreed on was that Rei didn’t really have any sort of idea what was going on. Maybe it was because of her age, maybe it was because she was so quiet or perhaps they all just had low opinions of her in truth, but they thought she didn’t understand. After all, anyone who stops to admire flowers and talk to birds must be confused, right?

Or maybe she just had a better sense of what it was to be alive.

But as evening approached, she did prove, how ever that she was aware.

“What’s that,” she had asked, pointing in the dim light, “It’s pretty.” The others directed their gazes at a tree the young girl had singled out. They hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary and thought, yes, Aba’s just a little too young to understand, and brushed her question off. Until Hawkmon, with his eagle’s eye could see.

“It’s a carving in the bark,” he told the others. Hawkmon flew to be eye-level with the apparition. “It appears to resemble two crescent moons, mirroring one another.”

“Hah!” Rei said, triumphant. “Told you guys something was there.” She beamed and scooped up Tsukimon, holding her up to the tree, so that the rabbit could see. “Moons,” Rei said, a little strained from lifting her digimon, “Like you. Tsuki.”

The carving emitted a dim, diffuse glow, sort of lavender in color. Gasping, Os pulled Rei away from the tree by her shoulders. Hi stepped closer to get a better look at the symbol. She whipped her head around to face the rest of the group and grinned ferally.

“You guys know what I think?” she asked, her voice low. “I think it’s a Crest.”

“Crest?” The other children and their digimon echoed.

As if on cue, the carving separated itself from the tree, showing it’s true form as a small almost-rectangular in shape object. Though, to be fair, it was still glowing.

“It’s Aba-chan’s Crest!” Hi declared in a sing-song voice as the thing cemented itself in the palm of the younger girl’s hand.

“It matches my hair,” the little girl beamed as her siblings crowded to get a better look.

“But what is it the Crest of?” Yellowmon half growled.

“Maybe it’s the Crest of Cuteness!” Sunmon suggested.

“The Crest of Quiet?” Rookmon guessed.

“No!” Tsukimon shouted. The other digimon started. “It’s none of those things,” she insisted. “I don’t know what it is, but I know what it’s not!”

Hawkmon and Wormmon barely listened to the exchanges. Their minds were somewhere else, remembering that last time they had seen Crests....

Inoue Miyako was in trouble. And she knew it. At her heels, Hawkmon and Wormmon gasped. Before them, a dear friend scowled, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. He growled low in his throat in anger and loathing. His simple gray suit had been replaced by a tri-colored spandex suit, a dark slit cape draped over his shoulders and that whip had returned to his hands.

“It’s official,” Miyako muttered, “I really hate this virus.” One touch from those strange anomalies the quartet had seen and one of the Digital World’s worst nightmares was revisited. “Be on your guard, Hawkmon.”

“I’m not going to let you hurt Ken-chan,” Wormmon warned.

“We don’t want to hurt him, Wormmon. I want him back to normal just as much as you do,” Miyako told the small caterpillar. “I don’t think slapping him across the face is going to bring him back to his senses this time.” Miyako pulled out her Digivice, mouthing ‘Just in case,’ to both digimon, meaning to reassure the distraught Wormmon and make sure Hawkmon would be ready to Digivolve when needed. If it would be needed. Miyako hoped it wouldn’t.

“Ken-chan,” Wormmon said, taking a few steps towards his human partner, “this isn’t you, you’re just sick. We’ll help you get better.”

Wormmon liked to think that he had forgotten the sting of the Digimon Kaiser’s whip over the years but within just a few moments, every memory came rushing back in the form of pain blossoming across his head. Wormmon refused to back down, which just caused Ken to strike again, something the small digimon knew would happen.

“KEN-KUN!” Miyako screeched in anger as the teen would-be tyrant sent his most loyal friend skidding across the forest floor. The boy turned to her next, seething with anger. Valiantly, Hawkmon stepped in front of Miyako, only to bear the brunt of Ken’s assault. Tears ran down Miyako’s face as Hawkmon was beaten before her eyes. Somehow, Ken’s dark Digivice was preventing Hawkmon from achieving his Champion stage and the hysterical Miyako couldn’t calm down long enough to instigate an armor evolution.

Miyako dropped to the ground and pulled Hawkmon away from the range of Ken’s whip. The lavender haired adolescent screamed in pain as the Kaiser’s whip cracked across her shoulders. Ken smirked. He raised the whip once more and brought it down on Miyako again. And again.

The whip slit over Miyako’s backpack, cutting it open. The contents spilled out and tumbled down off her back. Along with various other provisions, Miyako’s D-terminal tumbled out. The hatch flipped open on its own, the image an egg projecting itself on the screen. The silver Digimental took on its tangible form, creating solid mass underneath her hand.

Glowing red, the Digimental of Love melted down into a crimson metallic pool. The liquid contracted into a triangular shape, aided by Miyako’s tears.

The Tag and Crest of Love. Miyako grabbed it from the ground and held it up, shielding herself with the power of the Crest.

The words came out of her mouth on their own, almost as though the Crest was acting through Miyako.

“Purify through Love!” With the verbal command, a soft reddish glow from the Crest erupted. A similar glow illuminated Ken’s body for a moment so short that if one blinked, they would have missed it. The whip fell from his hand and before anyone could react to the sudden change, Ken reached Wormmon’s side and picked the digimon up, cradling him in his arms. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was hushed by the large caterpillar.

Miyako still knelt on the ground, her crest cupped in her hands.

“BINGO!” she cried suddenly, causing Ken and Wormmon, who still sat where the caterpillar had wound up after Ken’s attack, and Hawkmon, who was huddled in her lap to look at her strangely. “Guuuuys! We’ve got a weapon! The Crests fight the virus!”

“Miyako-san, you’re bleeding,” Ken murmured, concerned and feeling horrible. That virus had made one of his worst nightmares come true; reliving his past.

“I’m okay, Ken-kun,” she replied brightly. “It’s you I’m worried about. That virus really messed you up. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m not going to attack any of you again, if that’s what you mean,” he responded. Reaching up with one hand, Ken unfastened his cape and let it fall to the ground behind him, getting a sudden sense of deja vu. “I’m really sorry, Miyako-san,” he muttered, his head hanging in shame.

“It’s not your fault,” Miyako insisted. “It’s that virus. It attacks humans the same as digimon.”

“I’m still sorry,” he responded.

“You’re forgiven,” Miyako told him. “Feel better?”

“I should be asking you,” Ken said. He would have gestured to her shoulders but held on to his partner with both arms, refusing to let go.

Miyako struggled to her feet and plodded to Ken. She knelt beside him, smiling. Ken turned his head to face her, his eyes brimming with tears.

“I always hurt the people I care about,” he whispered. “My brother...my parents ...Wormmon ...and now you, Miyako-san.”

“We’ve been through a lot together, Ken-kun. Call me ‘Miyako-chan.’”

The tears that had built up in Ken’s eyes rolled down his cheeks. Without thinking, Miyako leaned in and kissed each trail of tears.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered, “if you cry, I’ll start, too and you don’t want me to cry, do you?”

“No, Miyako-chan.” Instinctively, Ken’s arms tightened around the bundle in his arms. Wormmon nuzzled Ken in response, but said nothing, refusing to ruin the moment between Ken-chan and Miyako. The caterpillar noticed, however, that Miyako had refrained from commenting on the notion that Ken cared for her, instead focusing entirely on his current state.

Miyako smiled and shifted into a sitting position. She reached out with one arm and removed Ken’s tinted glasses. She held them for a moment before folding them up and letting them rest on her lap.

“Miyako!”

Her head whipped around.

“Yeah, Hawkmon?”

“Your D-Terminal,” the bird digimon said, picked up the discarded divice, “it’s ringing.”

“Hn, e-mail?” the girl asked.

“Yes, from...” Hawkmon paused long enough to access the file using his finger-like feathers. “Koushiro.”

“All right!” Miyako cheered. “Contact with the other Chosen Children! We’ll be out of here before you know it Ken!” Ken’s lip curled into an attempted smile, though it faltered almost immediately. Miyako jumped to her feet, ran the short distance to Hawkmon, awkwardly picked up the large bird, who in turn held her D-Terminal and returned to Ken’s side. Finally, the quartet ended up with Miyako seated in the middle, Hawkmon on her left, Ken on her right, Wormmon in the boy’s lap, held tightly in black clad hands.

Miyako-san, the e-mail read, I thought you would be interested to know that a series of disturbing anomalies are altering the normal attributes of digimon throughout the Digital World.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Miyako snorted.

Thankfully, there is a single place of origin for all of the anomalies. I’ve included a map leading to this counterpoint as an attachment. My theory is that if you go there you will find the reason for these problems and be able to correct it. Good luck ~Koushiro

“Let’s see what else we can get,” Miyako said, rubbing her hands together before swiftly typing a reply. With in a space of a few minutes, the young woman’s D-Terminal alerted them of another new message.

“Out of here in no time,” Miyako repeated.

Rei had placed her new Crest in the pocket of her school uniform, hoping it would be secure there. She didn’t quite know what it was for this time, though Os had forced Hi to tell them everything she new, beginning with the seven Chosen Children in summer camp and finally ending with the defeat of Belial Vamdemon. She then explained that as far as she knew, after that the Children and their partners were separated for good. The story took a lot of time to tell and by then nightfall had set in.

“What’s up?” The only awake digimon asked his partner, whose eyes remained open with a troubled glint.

“Just thinking about Hi’s story, Rookmon,” Dai said. “And the first Hikari that she was named after, who wanted to be stronger, you know?”

“Why are you thinking about her?” the chess piece digimon asked. “If I were you, I’d be thinking about the guy you were named after--”

“--Motomiya Daisuke.”

“--Or the Digimon Kaiser! Scary sounding guy, your dad.”

“Dad’s not scary, Rookmon,” Dai said. “But I guess I’m not really surprised about that part of the story. We’ve always known there was something up with Dad. The littlest things send him guilt trips and I always used to wonder why he just felt so bad all the time. I knew he must have done something sometime. It’s kind of hard to miss. Anyway, he got the Crest of Kindness and everything and Chosen get those Crests for a reason. I get I could fell betrayed or something but Dad didn’t tell us because he probably can’t talk about and if it’s something he can’t even talk about, I don’t want to punish him for it. Especially not after being here and knowing that he helped save this World.

“So I was thinking about Yagami Hikari and how she wanted to be stronger. I wish I was stronger, too. I really can’t handle being here and having so much responsibility. I just want to go home,” the boy whispered. He pulled his knees up against his chest. “But I have to be strong and help take care of Aba-chan and not be burden.”

“You’d never be a burden, Daisuke-chan!

“Yes, I am!” Dai hissed, ignoring the usage of his full given name. “Os and Hi have this all figured out and Aba’s got a Crest. What do I do? I get attacked! And to top that off, I can’t even defend myself I need not only you, but my big brother’s digimon to save me, too. Even at home, I’m useless! My grades in school suck, all I do is make stupid jokes and waste time and play chess. I’m a pathetic, weak, waste of space and I don’t know why the Digital World chose me! But it was probably because every other member of my family was and it didn’t want to leave me out!”

“Dai-chan,” Rookmon whispered slowly, “how come you’re not crying?”

“What?” the 10-year-old started.

“Well,” the digimon began, “I just think if you can believe all that rotten stuff about yourself, not be angry or ashamed or anything about your dad, still be a kid, one that has to save the world, at that and still not cry, you can’t get any stronger.”

“Biased,” Dai muttered. He adjusted his position leaning against a tree and closed his eyes. As he fell asleep, Ichijouji Daisuke never noticed deep blue light that illuminated his fingers and cupped itself in his hand.

“Silly,” Rookmon scolded quietly, “That’s your Crest of Strength.”

**********************

Disclaimers: Same as previous chapters, whatever they said.

Author Notes: *Dances* Here’s what happened. I was bored and reading some FF.N columns and Meimi had a ‘Trials and Tribulations’ about forcing yourself to work on multiparters after your inspiration was gone, so I sat myself down and forced myself to finish Ch. 4 of ‘Generations.’ (I had all the flashback and maybe 13 lines of the kids’ story completed.) Before long, I got into the swing of things again! I’m so happy I never could bring myself to delete this story!