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from here]The smell of old paper, leather and cardboard was oddly comforting. It had been too long since Ritsuka had been able to visit the patient library and since he was only able to check out one book, he usually had way too much time on his hand. Ritsuka was used to reading at least one or two books a day, so having just one for an entire
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But the realistic part of him knew that was impossible. All he could do was prop Renamon up at the least, or heal the wounds at the most. But the wounds were deep enough to scar, and there was nothing he could do to change that. That was the hardest part of all that.
When Renamon put Orihime's photograph into his hands, he held it carefully. His eyes softened, growing sad. So she was really gone.... He had expected, but now he knew.
"Ren..." The nickname surprised him when it escaped his lips, and he smiled sadly. "I can't bring people back."
He didn't know what to say, and it was obvious he was struggling with this. What was he supposed to say in this situation? When Tsunade had lost her brother, he couldn't say anything, either. It was just like back then, except the loss came from a disappearance instead of a death.
"I just... want to help you in any way I can. And not just because you're important to me."
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Did she want people brought back? Wasn't that a selfish choice? Perhaps she was just mourning her own loss. It wasn't anything that would kill her--the Digimon was used to the solitude that life usually brought. So perhaps that wasn't it, perhaps... Instead, she was just mourning lost chances. And she didn't know. She didn't know what exactly happened to the ones that disappeared. And the lack of that knowledge jilted something in her.
And she was sorrowful. Renamon wouldn't lie, and lessen it as such. She slid the picture back into the file, then pushed open the door, sliding out the entrance to somewhere else for them to walk. Movement, as she had said, gave rise to success. As long as she was moving, she could continue.
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