Is this a crossover? Um......half'n'half, yes and no. Light romance of the shoujo, shounen, and het kind. Not to mention SPOILERS for every season.

Kanbara Takuya sat on the edge of the taxicab seat, his feet twitching and his hands jittery. His entire body couldn't keep still, permeated with the panic and fear that jumped from Minamoto Kouji's synthetic voice to himself. He was convinced whatever he was feeling could only equal a tiny fraction of what Kouji was experiencing.

The outside world raced by from the slightly unclean window, people and buildings and commerce stands all masked with the thinnest layer of dust and grime from outward exposure to the dirt of the ground. But Takuya didn't see any of it. All he say was his own, vague reflection in the glass.

It'd been about five years since that one day. The one day that hadn't past more than an hour or two, when they left with the promise of adventure and returned with weeks worth of everlasting memories. The Digital World.

Five years, eight days, two hours, and twenty-seven minutes since Ophanimon had reached out to a multitude of children, and five of them had pulled through for her. And Takuya had -grown-, too fast since then. He was the same to his partners, he'd been different to his friends. ..They would never understand, and he could only smile.

But now, he was cutting his classes, still in his highschool uniform, answering an urgent call that made his heart freeze.

Kimura Kouichi was in the hospital.

Images of when they'd returned ran through his mind unbidden: racing down the stairways of the Shibuya station, only to find the last lingering paramedic; Kouichi laying on a hospital bed, comatose, with wires and tubes connected to his body; Kouji's frantic cries and tears, begging for his twin to waken...

Those, combined with the desperate pleas of Kouji just a few minutes ago, created a quiet sob in his throat. He hadn't managed to get Kouji to tell him the situation, but he knew he'd find out once he got there....

The cab pulled over, and Takuya threw him the tab before dashing from the sidewalk into the building they were parked in front of. Talking to the receptionist was a little frustrating, but it was mostly his fault for being in the biggest-- well, second biggest-- rush of his life. Once he found out the whereabouts of Kouichi, it took a lot of forced patience to maneuver around the other tenants, staff, and visitors, or to not pace around in the elevator hard enough to ware a hole in the floor before he reached the floor.

But he wasn't even in the lobby-- heck, he -just- stepped off the elevator-- when he heard the shouting from around a corner, at the end of a corridor to his right. Kouji.

Kouji wasn't a violent person by nature; he liked letting his silence speak for him. However, he was very vocal when he had an opinion to get across, and for the most part, he liked getting his way, because nine times out of ten it was the right move to play. But today seemed like that one time when it was a reckless gamble which loses in the long run, because when Takuya burst into the lobby, it was a hard sight to swallow.

The Minamoto's and Kimura-san were protesting with one of the doctors, each at variable degrees of intensity, and Kouji was being restrained by three men, two nurses and one doctor, who were struggling to hold him.

"Let me GO! I need to see him!"

It was people like Kouji who made the employees really earn their paycheck. Denying him the right to be at his brother's side was their first mistake, as the teen once swore he'd never leave Kouichi's side, short of his own death. And apparently, being a few rooms away did not cut it. He flailed, kicked, screamed, bit, cursed, and every else he could possibly think of to get them to let him go, and it only got worse when he heard one of them call for a sideline nurse to get them ten CCs of....something. A tranquilizer most likely.

"Kouji!!"

What a surprise it must've been, to feel the wily adolescent to freeze in their grasp. Kouji was still ridged, muscles tense and probably beginning to cramp, but he wasn't fighting. Instead, he was looking towards the entrance, where a new face stood. And in comparison of features of the Kimura/Minamoto families, he definitely wasn't a relative. At least not an immediate one.

"Takuya..."

Defeat tipped Kouji's voice. He literally sagged, and the men found it safe to slacken their holds. It was the moment Kouji needed, as he pushed through them and ran. But not towards the doors on the other side of the lobby. His destination was Takuya, whom he gripped in an ursine hug, practically trying to bury himself into the fiery, ex-elemental. Takuya could feel hot and heavy tears on his neck, the shaking limbs beneath his arms... God, he thought the first time had been bad. It was like comparing a cottage to a skyscraper. ..So what happened?

"Hey, I'm here," he murmured quietly, gently stroking Kouji's back. "Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"Kouichi....a coma."

That...can't be right...! He looked up at Kouji's three parents, his face, his eyes asking for clarification. But from their sullen and downcast expressions-- Kimura-san was quietly crying-- his heart sank. Not again. "Minamoto-sama, can--..." He licked his lips anxiously. "What's going on?"

But before Kouji's father could say anything, the doctor beside them-- the name on his ID was Endo-- interjected. "May I ask you are, young man?"

"Kanbara Takuya."

Dr. Endo narrowed his eyes, all business. "And are you related to either the Minamoto's or the Kimura's?"

Takuya snorted, slightly shifting his hold on Kouji. "I'm as related to them as much as a cat is related to a melon. What's it to you?"

"Then I'm afraid you aren't privileged to the status of Kimura Kouichi."

The brunette's jaw dropped. This man had the -audacity- to tell him---! "Excuse me?!" he blurted without much thought. "Where the hell--"

"Takuya-san!" gasped Mrs. Minamoto, shock in her eyes.

"--do you get off telling me I have no right to know what's wrong with Kouichi?? Here I am, holding Kouji like a baby when he was in /hysterics/ and screaming until his lungs exploded just a minute ago, which I think entitles me to /something/. Besides, I wasn't asking you, I was asking Minamoto-sama, who /is/ obliged to tell me whatever you've told him already."

Dr. Endo backed off then. At the same moment, a woman arrived and handed him a clipboard; Endo hastily excused himself and crossed the room to the double doors, disappearing behind them.

Mr. Minamoto sighed, rubbing at his face out of exhaustion. "I hardly need to ask if you were who Kouji called, because it's obvious that you are."

Takuya blushed, bowing his head. "Sorry for the outburst, Minamoto-sama. I wasn't thinking."

The older man dismissed the notion with a wave. "Quite alright. We know you care about them deeply..." An eyebrow rose, accusingly. "Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten here in under fifteen minutes. We're not going to even ask what excuse you gave to get out of class."

It's gonna be the longest bathroom break in school history, that's for sure. Takuya gave a sheepish smile in return, guiding him and Kouji closer to the adults; Ms. Kimura and Mrs. Minamoto were too busy comforting each other to say much.

"So...."

"As the story goes," Mr. Minamoto started, "Kouji was on his way to meet with Kouichi before school, like they do every day. When he got there, Kouichi was already unconscious, laying prone on the sidewalk. He called the paramedics on his cellphone, and us on Kouichi's. There's been no signs of assault or bruising that would indicate something like....last time." Mr. Minamoto frowned gravely, remembering being present with the medical once his ex-wife called him and told him about the twins. "They're running all sorts of tests on him now, thinking it might be due to a tumor, or something as serious as that."

Takuya shivered at the probability of cancer, and Kouji's sobs hitched a little higher. Dear god, this can't be....

"I can't lose him...."

The brunette barely heard the words, and almost thought Ms. Kimura had spoken instead. But it was Kouji, and whether it was to himself or Takuya, he was murmuring. "Five years isn't enough. I can't lose him, I nearly lost him to Cherubimon and I never would have known. I nearly lost him to Lucemon...and I could have lost him here, in the Real World. ..I couldn't live if I lost him."

You helped bring him back to life, Kouji. You won't lose him. I promise.

Inoue Miyako and Motomiya Daisuke waited.

And waited.

...And waited.

"Where is he?! I thought Ken was supposed to be Mr. Punctual!"

Daisuke grit his teeth and forced his tongue down. Miyako's worrying was slowly wearing at his sub-par patience, but at the same time he shared her feelings. Ichijouji Ken was not the kind of man who was late. He wasn't even fashionably late. Everything was prompt and on time. Homework assignments, due dates....dinner and study dates.

Pizza and cram-sessions were a weekly ritual between the three, with Ken being the genius, Miyako getting it, and Daisuke the mediocre student. Every Saturday found them outside the same pizzeria, with the same order being cooked, and would eat and squat until it closed, which led them to either Miyako or Daisuke's apartment for a recap episode.

And Ken was -never- late.

Ten minutes after seven, Daisuke growled and stalked to the nearest payphone, Miyako right on his heels. Quickly dialing a number he knew by heart, he waited three tones before Mrs. Ichijouji picked up with her pleasant, 'Moshi moshi, Ichijouji residence.'

"Ah, konban wa, Ichijouji-kaasan. Daisuke desu."

"Daisuke-kun!" He could hear her smile. "Konban wa. How may I help you?"

"Um, this might sound strange, but I'm calling to see if Ken's still there?"

"Ken? No, he left to go meet you at quarter to seven. Why, he's not there yet?"

"No, actually, he isn't." Daisuke grimaced; he couldn't sugar coat it. "Miyako and I thought he might've not left yet."

"He could have missed the train to Odaiba, but... I sure he would have called me had that been the case. Well, another train runs at seven-thirty five, so either stay where you are, or go to the station and hopefully meet up with him."

They were perfectly good reasons, Daisuke surmised, and it's most likely what happened. Or so he tried to convince himself. "Thank you very much, Ichijouji-kaasan."

When he hung up, he spared Miyako a lighthearted look, hoping to ease her spirits as well. "He probably missed the train. You know how the stations can be crowded, right?"

Miyako was -not- convinced, and neither was Daisuke. The mahogany-haired boy exhaled. "Look, we're going to wait here for another hour, okay? If he's not here by then, we'll be allowed to panic."

Wordlessly, she agreed, and they went inside the pizzeria to to sit down and pray Ken got there before Daisuke ate all there pizza.

Nine o'clock rolled on.

Ken never showed up.

"Honestly though, Americans get worked up over the slightest things! Silver spoons, and all. Spoiled brats."

Adachi Naoyuki rolled her eyes. "Tarou-kun, give. It. Up. It's a done-to-death conversation, and I'd like to eat and mooch off Aya's paycheck without having to worry about getting into an argument with you. Besides, you're getting worked up over a country with a good amount of the next Chosen Child generation."

Konaka Tarou snorted and muttered, "Its only redeeming quality," before stabbing his fish with his chopsticks.

Naoyuki and the tablemate across from her shook their heads with little sighs. All three were adults, in their late forties, dressed for a semi-formal occasion, and seated in one of the fancier restaurants in uptown Tokyo. There were actually four in the party, but one had excused himself about five minutes ago for the bathroom. And Naoyuki took it upon herself to tease the one across from her with a light, dirty smile. "Hi~ro~a~ki..."

Ishida Hiroaki blinked up at her, a small scoop of rice hovering less than two inches from his mouth. "Nao~yu~ki," he drawled back. "What?"

"Are you /sure/," she asked, deceptively innocent, "he didn't want you to join him after two minutes or something?"

It was Hiroaki's turn to snort and stuffed the end of his chopsticks into his mouth, but his cheeks were a bit rosier. "You're plucking assumptions out of thin air, Nao-chan, because you know /exactly/ what our relationship is."

"Well how do we know that isn't some little front you guys put up for us?" Casually, she snatched a strip of meat from Hiroaki's plate. "In public and around us, you act all...date-ish and flirty, tiny kisses on cheeks and things. For all we know, you guys go back to Aya's flat and have wild, unbridled sex." And she popped the stolen goods into her mouth, without a care in the world.

Tarou, for all that world, choked on his drink. He'd expected her thoughts to wander that far, but didn't think she'd be so crass as to be blunt about it. Hiroaki pounded him on the back, until he lifted his hand to signal he was okay. Hiroaki backed off, and fixed Naoyuki with a Look potent enough for the both of them. "I am /not/ sleeping with Aiyote. Dating, yes, sleeping with, no."

"Not yet anyway." She smiled pleasantly. "He's wanted you since you fell from the sky in the Digital World. I knew it, Jun-kun knew it, even Gennai had a clue."

He scowled back at her. "Eleven and twelve year olds don't 'want', Nao. They get kiddie crushes. And I should know: I had one on Natsuko, and I've got kids who went through the same thing."

Tarou interjected, before Naoyuki could retaliate. "How /are/ Yamato and Takeru these days? Still in school?"

"Yama's been accepted to the local university, and Takeru's finishing up 11th grade." He shrugged. "Nothing much aside from, oh, Takeru's premature engagement to his girlfriend and Yamato's hunt for a record deal."

"Engagement?" Naoyuki raised an eyebrow. "To the Yagami girl?"

"None other."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

Hiroaki pursed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. "I'm not. He's only seventeen, Nao, and while I totally trust his judgment and love Hikari like a daughter... Engagement! Who knows when they'll get married, and the rumor is before they turn twenty. I.../don't/ think I can handle it."

The woman chuckled. "And you wonder why the rest of us don't have kids. Quite frankly, I don't want to imagine all the stress that goes with it. What do you think, Tarou?"

"I think Hiroaki's gonna die of stress before he turns fifty-five." He spoke around his food. "I'm more interested in Yama-san's band. You know, I could--"

"--Not get involved," Hiroaki cut in. "I'm not pulling strings for him, and he doesn't want me to. Which is why he didn't come to you."

Tarou pouted. "I'm crushed." Then he looked around. "Where did Aya /go/, Wakkanai[1]? My god, I hope he didn't die in there."

"Are you sure--"

"Yes, dammit! It wasn't a follow-me-in-thirty-seconds thing!" Hiroaki huffed, irate. "Look, I'll go get him. If /I'm/ not back in a few minutes, then you can make up any rumor you want."

He got up and left the table, walking down the isle between parties to the restroom corridor. A doorman was standing at the end, stationed between the women's and men's room doors. He cleared his throat to get the man's attention. "Excuse me, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Has a man about my age with short green hair and a light tan suit come this way?"

The man tipped his head to the side, nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, sir. He went inside about ten minutes ago. Hasn't come out yet, though."

"Thank you."

Hiroaki pushed up the door and stepped inside. The white-tiled room was unfathomably quite. No scuffling feet, no running water, no...anyone.

"Aiyote?"

He looked around, gently opening up stall doors, none of which were locked, and checking every possible crevice. One window, above a radiator, too small for even Aiyote to squeeze through, but there was an ATM machine installed in the far wall. ..No place to hide without being found in seconds.

Hiroaki bit lightly at his lip, confused beyond doubt. He was just about to head out and ask the doorman some more questions, but something out of place caught his eye, an imperfection in the white.

On the porcelain sink was a piece of idle gold, right on the rim and cradled into the ingrained soapdish. Upon inspection, it was a cufflink. Aiyote's.

Now the journalist was really confused, and he hurried out. When he was back out in the hallway, the doorman looked at him. "Did you find your friend?"

"....Sir, are you /sure/ he didn't step out? Maybe when you weren't looking, or something."

"No, I'm afraid I would have noticed if he did." The man's expression grew worried. "He's not in there?"

Hiroaki shook his head. "No, he's not, but this was. And I know it's his." He held out the cufflink. "Sir, did anyone else go inside after him?"

The doorman bowed his head. "I'm sorry, he was the last one to go in. ..Would you like to alert the manager?"

"If you would, please." Because this is /not/ like him at all, and people don't just...vanish.

Yagami Taichi was just about to call it quits, admitting defeat. But of course, Hikari wouldn't let him. She sat right next to him, and enthusiastically pointed out advertisements for him to compare.

Sure she's enthusiastic, he mused darkly. If I get an apartment, I move out..and she gets our room to herself.

But that was the tired and pessimistic side of him speaking. The more optimistic part of him knew 'Kari was only trying to help him, trying to be the gracious little sister and aid him when normally it was the other way around. Inwardly, he smiled, but it couldn't manifest into reality. Instead, he flopped backwards and lay spread eagle on the floor, exhaling noisily. "This is hope~less!"

"C'mon, oniisan, don't be like that." She smiled down at him, fox-eyed. "It's not you don't have a plan to fall back on. If all else fails, there's always Jyou and Koushirou's offer."

"Maaaaa, buncha lovebirds." He mock-glared at the ceiling. "I don't wanna wind up bunking on their couch.. or worse yet, in a threesome. I'm convinced the only reason they would invite me to room with them is so they can have my hot body all to themselves."

Hikari snickered. "Don't flatter yourself. They're just your friends."

"And I'll have you know they were 'just friends' too. That's how everything starts out, then the next thing you know, you're sleeping with them and using whip cream for /other/ things besides topping pies and ice cream."

She chuckled, covering her mouth to hide it. "You /might/ have a point, but it's only coincidence some friends end up getting deeper feelings for each other."

"Uh huh. You're one to talk, soon-to-be-Mrs. Takaishi."

"Hai!"

Taichi quirked a smile. "Y'know both Yama and I are gonna vie for position as god-parents. Have at least two and make us happy."

"Oi!" Hikari swatted him with a pillow. "Kids are years away, oniisan. Not for another six or seven years. I can't believe you'd bring that up /now/."

Taichi feigned hurt and sat up, crossing his legs and planting his hands firmly on his knees. "I'm only saying, just in case something goes wrong and you turn into a mother at age nineteen--"

"/TAICHI/!"

The older sibling cackled. "I'm kidding! I swear, I'm kidding!" He hopped off the bed, and stretched, popping the bones in his spine back into place. "Hey, let's just call it a day. It's ten-thirty, and you've got school tomorrow. Not to mention some tests? I distinctly remember you studying earlier."

"I think you're trying to change the subject."

"And I think /you're/ just trying to stay up past that bedtime of yours. Shoulda been tucked in half an hour ago."

Hikari sighed a whimper, her lower lip pouting and her brown eyes quivering. She'd mastered the way of the Puppy, and wasn't ashamed to use it, not even on her brother.

Taichi clutched at his heart. "Nooooo. Not....the cutest look in the whole world! Arg! It's killing me! Help!"

He pounced at her suddenly, ignoring her wild squeals of protest as he scooped her up and tossed her onto the top bunk. She got a good swat at him, one that connected with his forearm, before conceding and burrowing herself in her sheets. As per ritual, she got a kiss to her forehead and an extra kudos for her luck, before Taichi wandered out of the room to continue house-hunting, promising to show her everything he found in the morning.

She was on the edge of true sleep, when a thud outside the room pulled her out of it. The room was dark, with only a wanning moon's light and the dulled afterglow of lamps across the street filtering through the window. She wouldn't have bothered to get up, but something...odd nagged at her. The light under the door was bluer, but just as soft as the light in their room. A quick look to the bed below told her Taichi wasn't there, so after a yawn, Hikari climbed down the ladder and padded over to the door.

In the lightless den beyond, the TV was giving off the white glow, but the cable wasn't on. Instead, snow covered the screen, and the volume was down low yet audible. Taichi wasn't there, though, and there was no light on in the bathroom. No one sitting in the kitchen, or even on its floor, after a quick scan with the light on.

He probably went out, she rationalized. He /was/ still up, so maybe he couldn't sleep? But that doesn't explain the TV. ..Saa, I'll see him later, then.

Remnants of good times and interesting experiences sprung to mind, once Matsuda Takato stood in front of the barred recess in the park, with his hands in his pockets and blocking out the background. His memories of his childhood had yet to fade, to which he was eternally grateful for. He wouldn't have gotten as far as he had in life if he'd forgotten Guilmon and his 'Takatomon' spiel, or all the lessons he'd learned from being a Tamer.

Oh Guilmon. Even in his thirties, Takato still yearned for the child in him, but it was forever condemned to his memories and fantasies; he was too old and too laid down with responsibilities to ever revert back. He could, however, remember and honor his Tamer days, which he was here to do today.

The hole inside the small, concrete cubby was still there; either no one had noticed, or there was a reason for the padlock on the gate. Takato smiled and took the wicker basket off the crook of his elbow. "Hey boy," he murmured, eyes focused on inside. "I know, I know, I should've been here two days ago, but Juri needed me, y'know?"

He knelt down to one knee, not caring about grass and dirt stains on his slacks, as he dug through the contents. "Managed to snitch some goodies from the bakery. Stale, fresh...I'll..pay for them later." He chuckled uneasily. "And peanut butter, dounuts, and assorted other pastries. You'd think...it was like old times..."

He frowned. Old times..before the days of the Digital World. Before Leomon died. Before Juri's insecurity and self-isolation. Those were the days...when we didn't have to care passed the random digital fields.

The edibles were slid between the bars and rolled their way into the tunnel Guilmon had dug over two decades ago. He knew he was being silly; Guilmon was in the Digiworld, not here to enjoy his once-a-year presents, but as Shuichon pointed out long ago, it was the thought that counted.

The basket was soon empty, and Takato pushed himself back onto his feet. His heart stirred momentarily, and suddenly the weight of twenty-two years crashed down on his shoulders, pinning down his thoughts, his wishes, his expectations. ....One day, he would die. His life would end, and he'd simply stop existing any further beyond the past visions of other people. His body will not vanish or disperse, it will rot as a whole or as ashes. And maybe tears will shed, maybe not.

What would Juri do?

Quietly, he sighed. His wish, his promise to Guilmon to play with him, was already fulfilled. He couldn't make another one of the same caliber, without sacrificing so much in the process. This, he knew. And he could live with that, for now.

His tribute done, and his heart unintentionally heavy, Takato turned his back on the shed and began to make his way home. After all, Juri would be worried if he stayed away too much longer.

On his way out of the park, he passed an electronic payphone, and made a quick call to her, tell her he'd be home in a few minutes. As he hung up, he picked up an odd crackling sound, like loud static electricity being emitted from a dryer-warm blanket.

The last thing he saw and felt before succumbing to unvolitive darkness was an opaline field rushing at him, wrapping him up, and pulling him forward.

"Zol! Call back Ryuumemon!"

The command fell on deaf ears, as the serpent-dragon digimon battled harder and fiercer, slashing its unrelenting claws at the enemy. Ferocious, feral, and out of control. Kitajima Ryoushi cursed loudly, damning the viral champion to hell under his breath, as he swung LunarSonaphimon's glaive into the belly of a horrid beast. He was bent on taking out his frustrations, and if slicing open a few alien monsters did the trick, then so be it.

This wasn't supposed to be a battle, he growled. Reconnaissance. Nothing more! Damn Yohji. Damn Jasir. ..Damn invasion! And with a pent up war cry escaping his lips, the mega Emersion product released his fury of unadulterated Hell unto deserving patrons.

Off to the side, Tatsunosuke Hayato cowered, his hand over his mouth as he tried not to be ill. Crossmon was in the air above him, wrestling an aerial alien out of the sky. The gold armor held fast under the pressure of grotesque talons, but the carapace of the flyer did not hold when it came to Crossmon's razor-sharp ones. It fell, its entrails tailing behind it as it dropped like a stone to the ground. The sight of the mess, coupled with the fresh scent of death and added to the previous scenes of today only made his sickness worse. He couldn't handle it. He wasn't Jasir Zol, an indifferent-to-emotion extraterrestial, or Ryoushi, ruthless and freezingly passionate, or Obinata Yohji, who enjoyed the sensuousness of death-dancing and the carnage of killing that which is not safe.

He was just little Hayato, one of the few agents with a Mega-level digimon, forced to fight bloodbaths and massacres to save their world without a concern towards Hayato's feelings and opinions. Truly, he deserved the crest of Sorrow.

The extermination did not last much longer, as the nest had been small and poorly maintained. Corpses and the remains of eggs lay everywhere; you couldn't move without stepping on a limb or an embryo. And Hayato retched his stomach empty, disgusted and relieved at the same time.

Something touched his hunched-over back, and Hayato turned to see the blue skin, violet hair, and black eyes of Jasir, looking back down at him emptily. They didn't say anything, and Jasir soon continued forward, Oxinimon tagging along right beside him and bragging to his partner how powerful he was.

Hayato didn't fault the rookie; everyone knew it was true.

"Hey hey, nice job ladies." From the rim of the nest, Yohji lept down the piled-up barriers, Fennemon copying him just as gracefully. And if the cheshire, smug grin on his face was an indication, once he landed on stable ground, finishing off the heart of the nest was also complete. "But I'm kinda disappointed you didn't leave any for me and Kuzuhamon to take care of."

"Had you not been goofing off and finished the inner job sooner," Ryoushi spat venomously, now separated from a de-digivolving Sonaphimon, "you could have helped us. Then again, we /should/ have let you take care of them all. ..It /is/ your fault, after all."

"It's a fresh nest though!" Yohji exclaimed. "Why should we wait for them to settle down and get themselves organized in their newbie-ness?! We have the power to stop them, so we could nip the preventable buds at the roots!"

The black fox loyally at his right made a sound of agreement. Fennemon knew her place well, and it didn't hurt that she felt the same way her partner did. Ryoushi's fists clenched hard and he temporarily shut himself out of his surroundings; he couldn't deal with insubordination right now. Jasir stepped in for him, with his light, toneless voice carrying to convey Ryoushi's agitation.

"Had this been /my/ planet, Obinata, surely you would be terminated for reckless endangerment of a mission and company members. You knew what was required, you violated the terms of mission guidelines, and our actions go unchecked. Yes, we participated, but only after Kitajima's reluctant order. You are wholely to blame for whatever repercussions we sustain once we return to base."

Yohji snorted and cocked his chin upwards, challenging his two superiors. "Oh blow off. This was the right thing to do and the two of you are hiding behind protocol. We won't win if we don't take--"

"Can we get out of here now?!"

The red-haired boy swerved his angry eyes' focus onto the small blue digimon by Hayato's side. Penguinmon was too short to hold Hayato upright and could do no more then rub his arm with two short flippers. "What's done is done, and we can't change it," he squeaked. "So we should just leave now.... 'cause Hayato-san isn't feeling very well."

"Spineless coward," Yohji hissed, blue eyes glinting maliciously at their youngest member. "Why are you even here?" The question was rhetorical and he didn't wait for Hayato's reply before turning on his heels and stalking away from the battlezone, with all the arrogance and pride of an unstoppable force emanating from his aura. Jasir didn't even blink, before giving a light touch to Ryoushi's shoulder, signaling him from his inner-working anger.

Penguinmon aided Hayato in the same direction Yohji left in, whispering encouragement to him, as a partner who cared deeply for his human. But Penguinmon knew it was futile. After all, his own Warp digivolution was based on the core of Hayato's self-loathing and depression.

Heliomon scowled, feeding on Ryoushi's overpowering emotions, and stalked towards Penguinmon and Hayato before they got too far ahead, to instruct them. Penguinmon digivolved into Sabredramon with Heliomon's permission (essentially, it was Ryoushi's as well), and took flight with the boy on his back.

"Ryoushi."

The elder teen lifted his head, and Jasir was in front of him, wiping nonchalantly away at his cheeks. They were damp, from one or two shed tears; Jasir found no shame in crying. It was, after all, a natural human function. "I see why you are upset, but do not let it hinder you. Obinata had a point, but you are still the commander. He was wrong, and if need be, I will stand behind you if you choose to drop him from our ranks and request a new recruit."

"No. ..No, it's okay." Ryoushi was tired. His bones ached, his muscles burned, and even with the wonderful adrenaline rush Emersion gave him in combat, it faded too soon when he was human again. "I'd just like to get home and pass out on the first vaguely soft thing I come across."

Jasir nodded. "Return. I will do a last sweep of the area, then do the same."

"Do as you will." Ryoushi's smile was dead. "You are, after all, our strongest pair, and I can trust you'll come back unscathed."

"Praise will get you nowhere, my friend."

The bluenette acknowledged him and started on his way out, Heliomon no more than two feet away. His on-foot journey was unsteady and was half tempted to evolve Heliomon into Raichiromon to save him the agony, but decided against it. Heliomon hid it well, but Ryoushi knew the reptilian digimon was just as tired as himself. They could Emerge all they wanted, and the ultimate drain would be the same on both of them; there was no getting used to it.

On his way, he passed the remains of a destroyed automobile, its body demolished, but one window was still in tact. Randomly, he stopped right in front of it, and his reflection shined back at him, a ghost full of pain and nary a happy memory. Their world was all but ruined, and fighting the monsters in an all out battlefield while civilians hid in the crevices of both the Real World and the Digital World. He feared the future: his own, both worlds, his race.

Humans were damned to death and Jasir's people would not help beyond sending a few of their warriors to join the Earth's military. No, it seemed fruitless. Once either side won, Jasir and his brethren would depart, leaving a broken world and humans to ruin a second. And Ryoushi would miss Jasir...if he were still alive when the day came.

Suddenly, the background behind his reflection lit up in a light that was /not/ from a digimon ascension. Ryoushi whirled around, and was met with nothing. No Jasir, no Oxinimon. The teen cried out and retraced his steps in a run, sliding to a halt where they had just stood mere seconds ago. "Jasir?!"

But there was no trace, and Ryoushi grew frantic, spinning around and looking for any clue that could help him. But there'd been no skittering sound of the alien mutants, no sign of a struggle among the prone bodies and gunk, no...anything. All that lay in the spot he vanished were foul corpses, the debris of a fallen city, and one innocent-- and unidentifiable-- electronic device.

"JASIR!"

[1] Wakkanai is a far-north city on the most northern main island of Japan.

A/N: Tarou, Naoyuki, Aiyote, Yohji, Fennemon, Hayato, Ryoushi, Heliomon & all evolutions, Jasir, and Oxinimon & Ryuumemon are my own personal babies. Eastern name arrangement used (surname first), except in Jasir's case. Speaking of him, a piece of his story is Unearthly Encounters of the Digi-kind, which may or may not get finished once it's cleaned up. And it doesn't coincide with DSDC at all. Like DBZ movies.

Wow. I never wrote a faster piece this long. It took less than two days, while all my other things this length takes months or /years/. Although, the sixth scene was a bit off-kilter. The beginning of it was just fine, but yeah, here I am, trying to introduce seven new people you never heard of; writing the adults in the third scene was less painful, and they're new too (except Hiroaki :3).

And...well, let's just say I'm all European in blood and no way Asian, nor have I ever taken a class. -_-;;; So, I'm damn sure whatever Daisuke said was...wrong? I will refrain from any more Japanese in the future, except the most basic of basics. Hey, if the Ninja Turtles could get away with random 'sayonara's and Betterman with their 'K-chan' (Yami no Matsuei's dub did the same thing in one case), the amatuer writer can toss 'em around too! ..With a zillion and one apologies.