Guardian of the Spirit (Prologue)
It has been a long time since I’ve started this story, but despite the time that has passed, I often find myself thinking about wanting to continue it. However in order to do that, a rewrite of all that I has was seriously at order - while I like what I did back then, some elements simply do not seem quite to fit. OI aso wasn’t very satisfied with my portrayal of Cody/Iori or how I handled the Taichi/Sora vs Yamato/Sora angle.
Unlike back then I’ve watched almost all series in their subbed version, and have now over three years more writing experience, which I hope does reflect in the differences of the rewrite to the original… a little at least. The new story will as I hope be a little darker, with a little less forced humour and be mostly based on the japanese original rather than the german dub.
About two years ago I also wrote a prequel oneshot that describes the events leading up to this prologue. It is called “As Time Goes By” and can be found through my profile for those who haven’t seen it yet and are interested.
Now that I’m done with all this tldr, let’s move on to the story. Please enjoy!
Category: Digimon: Zero Two, Tamers and Frontier
Characters: Taichi, Yamato, Koushiro, Iori, Mistuo Yamaki, Takuya, Izumi and many others
Warnings: a little bit AU, Seasons!crossover in case you haven't noticed yet. |D;;;
Summary: It has been nine years since the defeat of BelialVamdemon, and seven since the doors to Digital World have been closed for the Zero Two Chosen. But when Darkness and Despair spread, the Digital World calls out for its original Chosen Children. Endowed with new powers they must now ally with those who walked the path of the Chosen after them, all while dealing with work, college, high school and government agents?
Disclaimer: I don’t and will not ever own Digimon. The series belongs to respective companies and writers and I’m just playing around a little.
--- Guardians of the Spirits ---
--- Prologue ---
25. September 2011
Dear Hikari,
Thanks for your last mail, I’m glad to have heard from you. You guys sure had a blast at the East Cost, it seems. I hope you and Takeru keep enjoying your visit in the States. Your next stop is in Colorado isn’t it? In Odaiba is everything as normal as usual, and yes, I’ve not forgotten to remind Sora of her promise to you. She says, she surly will record it for you guys. ;)
I look forward to your next mail.
Have fun at your remaining Honeymoon.
Taichi
09/30/2011. . .
Shibuya High School. . . |
Seventeen years old Iori Hida nervously straightened his new school uniform for more than the first time this morning while continuing the way to his new school. It seemed questionable to move in the middle of the term and to start at a new school on a Friday, at least in his opinion, but his mother had thought otherwise. She had insisted that it was better for him to start fitting into their new environment as quick and soon as possible, to start anew now that they had lost his grandfather, whose death she claimed as reason to move.
And while Iori was sure that his grandfather’s death was at least part of it, he suspected the true reason to be of other nature. The Digimon. Because unlike his Grandfather who had accepted and always supported his role as Chosen Child, his mother had never quite been able to understand it. After all, all she had seen was her child being away, being in constant danger when the Digimon had invaded Odaiba in 2002.
Even now, long after the portal’s closing, she saw a danger in it, something her son was far too young for, even now at seventeen. She had changed her attitude towards the other Chosen, even towards Miyako, who had been a common and welcome guest before.
Most likely, he thought, the true reason of their move from Odaiba was to distance him from the other Chosen Children. While he had been permitted to go to Hikari and Takeru’s wedding, he knew that she was close to verbally forbidding him the contact to other Chosen Children. She had already taken his D3 Digivice and his D-Terminal after all.
That had been quite an issue between them, despite all respect he had for his mother - the Digivice and the D-Terminal were both part of who he was, or at least part of who he was supposed to be. He had tried to explain it to her, tried to tell her how the Digimon weren’t something he could just forget or ignore, and she had argued right back, why couldn’t he, why would he need his Digivice - the doors were supposedly closed, weren’t they?
In the end he had given in, as is it was proper for him to do as her son. However that didn’t mean that he was content with this solution, and part of him was close to rebel. Because here and now he was on his own, without friends, without anyone to confine. And yet, he told himself, he would endure. He would do as his mother wished, would visit school, perhaps even manage to make a few new friends.
And once this year was over and he finally finished with school, he would be able to return to Odaiba for college or university. It was simply a matter of time and patience. And patience was something that Iori was good at. But even so, somehow he couldn’t help the feeling that this was going to be a really long year.
He sighed as he finally arrived at the school gate, clearing his thoughts to get rid of his nervousness just before entering the grounds. He looked around curiously and found that he was far from being the only one on the school grounds. Quietly he took note of the groups of giggling girls that walked towards the entrance and of how the boys joked around casually, not all to worried about being late for class. All in all, one would almost call it cliché.
‘Not really a place I fit into.’ he thought carefully neutral as if stating a fact. For a moment he wondered if he should just leave, when a sudden flash of light blinded him. Blinking for a moment he searched for its origins and found it in the reflection of the goggles of a boy with wild, brown hair, who was playing around with a soccer ball.
“Daisuke-san…” Iori whispered confused, seeing the goggles and hearing to the familiar sound of a bouncing ball that he associated to the loud leader of the second Generation of Chosen Children.
But he quickly realised his mistake; the boy’s hair had a much lighter shade of brown and the design of the goggles was different. Not to mention that Daisuke had already graduated two years before and it was totally impossible for him to be there.
Now he started to notice the people around the boy: The boy with the goggles was arguing with another boy with long black hair, which was kept back by a bandana and almost standing between them was a third boy with black hair - probably the brother of the first; one could see the resemblance - who was trying his best to stop their fight with softly spoken words.
Sitting on the ground a bit further from them, yet close enough to be counted as a group, was a girl with long blond hair and a younger boy, around fourteen, who was wearing in the uniform of the neighbour junior high school. The last boy, a bit chubby and probably the oldest of their group, entertained both of them with his magic tricks.
Iori continued to stare; familiar memories about a rather similar scene were fighting their way into his mind: Daisuke playing around with his soccer ball, mock-fighting Takeru and Ken sometimes involving himself to save his best friend from being embarrassed, while Hikari and Miyako would chat sometimes about fashion or perhaps gossip a bit. He himself would sit back and enjoy being with his friends, knowing that soon ten hours of school would separate them.
However Iori was snapped out of his reminiscing thoughts when he heard the goggle-boy shouting in his direction. Apparently he had been caught staring. Shaking his head to get rid of the memories he turned around, ignoring the goggle-boy and his friends and everything they reminded him of.
It was better not to think about the past. Not when he had a present to focus on.
------
Objectively speaking, it was a day as any other, as far as Takuya Kanbara was concerned at least. Good in the sense that it was Friday (finally!) and with that almost weekend (he truly couldn’t wait to storm out of school again and breath and enjoy the last of this mild October’s sunrays), bad in the sense that Friday meant two hours Maths class, which he loathed to sit through - especially on a sunny day like this. Nothing truly extraordinary.
Yet , ever since dragging himself out of bed and to breakfast Takuya hadn’t been able to shake the small smile and feeling of contentedness, the subconscious knowledge that this day just had to be good in every possible sense of the word - even if nothing indicated anything to be out of the ordinary. Not even now as he argued with his (rival? Best friend? Former-Brother-in-arms?) friend Kouji Minamoto over some meaningless detail he had already forgotten to the most part again, even as the other’s brother, Kouichi Minamoto decided to try to break up their disagreement for the sake of re-schedule the headache he surely would have to suffer due this to after three pm instead of already 8:30 am - this feeling didn’t change and inwardly Takuya couldn’t help but smile.
Life had been good to them since their days in the Digital World - he hardly wasted a thought to the other world anymore. Sure, every once in a while he wondered how Bokomon and Neemon and Patamon and all the others were doing and he kept gravitating to the group he had travelled with, his friends, once strangers met on a train to a different world. But fact was that despite their deep down wish to visit the other world once more, it was highly improbable that they would see it again. All of them still had the cell phones that once had turned into the almost magical device called D-Tectores, but that was all they were - cell phones, long out of function and replaced by handier, more up-to-date devices. At that precise moment, the Digital World was nothing but a thought of the past to Takuya Kanbara.
And due that it was no wonder that it took him a moment to recognize the chill that suddenly wandered down his spine as he listened to Kouchi, the sure feeling of not being alone, of being watched and observed - an untrained instinct left from the Digiworld.
“Cat caught your tongue?” Kouji asked with a seemingly indifferent eyebrow raised (Takuya had learned to read behind the facade by now and saw the small signs of concern; he must have blacked out for a moment as he had tried to identify the feeling) and now he noticed that the others had become equally disturbed by his behaviour. He turned his head, searching for the source of disturbance.
“That’s not…” Takuya trailed off, finally having found the target of his search in a boy around their age with short dark brown hair he had never seen before. Though now he noted, the boy didn’t seem to stare at them but rather on something past them.
“Oi, what’s your problem!” Takuya shouted annoyed, snapping the boy out of his thoughts - deep down wondering just why the boy’s stare had awoken the memories of the other world.
The boy didn’t say anything but turned around and left to the school entrance.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Takuya called after him but the boy didn’t seem to hear him and when he lunged forward he felt himself struggle against Kouji’s grip.
“It’s not worth is.” the former holder of the Spirits of Light noted. Expression closed in a frown. Takuya resigned and nodded, bracing himself for Izumi’s inescapable coming speech about his sense of tact… or rather his there lack of.
------
Half an hour later Takuya sat in class 7-B, waiting for five hours of torture and boredom to start. He glanced over to the other side of the room, where Izumi (who had refused to talk to him after chewing him out) sat and talked with the other girls. Takuya himself didn’t quite feel like talking right now - he was still puzzling a bit over the feeling and memory from before.
Ever since their time in the Digital World he had the feeling of being different then his peers, more responsibly and mature (though Izumi often doubted the later attribute). There was simply something lacking in their peers - an experience that they couldn’t possibly begin to understand and while at first it had made him feel almost isolated outside their group, they all had learned to deal with it very quickly. Being different was hardly a bad thing after all. Takuya shook his head to chase away the memories - there was no reason to destroy a perfectly good day by brooding; he left that sort of attitude to Kouji - and trained his glance to the black board and the him foreign name that was written on it.
‘Iori Hida…’ Takuya read silently, furiously thinking if they had heard the name in yesterday’s history class or if they were simply getting a new student. With his memory both options were a certain possibility.
Finally their maths teacher entered the room, but instead of immediately continuing where they had left of the last time, the teacher made a gesture to the door and said: “Class, today we are welcoming a new student in our mid. Please treat him with respect.” and asked him to come in.
The door opened and a boy came in, walking a bit stiff in front of the class. First he gave a short bow to the teacher as thanks then to the class as greeting. “My name is Iori Hida. It is nice to meet you.”
Takuya’s mouth fell open when he recognized the boy before. The teacher nodded and said: “Well Hida-kun where would it be the best to place you… Ah next to Kanbara-kun. Kanbara-kun, please lift your hand!”
Takuya snapped out of his astonishment and did as his teacher asked. The boy, Hida, saw him and recognition flickered his eyes, while he sat down beside Takuya. For a moment Takuya debated about remarking about earlier but when he saw the slight blush that had crept onto Hida’s cheeks he decided against it.
For one he seemed already embarrassed about what had happened and Takuya wasn’t after all somebody to hold a grunge (Not to mention that he could already feel Izumi’s eyes in his neck, warning him about saying anything tactless).
So he showed his best happy-go-lucky expression and whispered: “Hi, I’m Takuya Kanbara. Nice to meet ‘cha.”
Iori blinked surprised but didn’t react the Kouji-way as Takuya had dubbed it (a.k.a. the only sound of acknowledgement being a ‘Hn’), but with a small, almost shy smile and a nod before turning on to the lesson.
At some other time Takuya might have frowned and thought himself and his attempt to offer friendship ignored, but somehow he knew that with Hida had accepted this attempt to connect, that this had been the first step (small but definitely a good foundation with the other). And as Takuya turned his glace from his new class mate to the black board, starting to copy the differential equations his teacher had been writing down the last two minutes, he couldn’t help but note that Hida somehow reminded him of something - he couldn’t quite get a gip on of what.
So he shrugged it off and concentrated on the task on hand, not aware that the look in Iori Hida’s eyes reminded him of the very people he spent his every day with - of somebody who had once seen a fantastic world, beautiful and broken and who had set out and succeeded to put it back together.
Of somebody who had once been called a Chosen Child.
Odaiba University. . . |
Odaiba University was an impressive building, a tall, modern structure of metal and glass. It was a rather cloudy Friday afternoon, and normally on such a day the campus would be full of students on their way into weekend, yet there was not a soul in front of the building. Instead the most of them were sitting in the right now cram-full conference hall, listening to every word of the charismatic, young man, who was addressing the audience.
In the back of said room stood a blond haired man, who appeared the same age as the speaker, leaning at the wall with his arms fold and his eyes trained on the events in front of him. The blond, Yamato Ishida, couldn’t help but grin as he watched how his best friend cunningly talked and answered questions of the audience.
Who would have thought 12 years ago that the hot-headed leader of the original Chosen Children would make such a good politician? Heck, even five years ago Yamato would have had trouble to believe that one. And yet… here stood Taichi Yagami as youngest nominee of the liberal party’s Tokyo division, on the verge of taking a seat in the district council.
Yamato observed his friend, who had changed drastically from the hasty twelve-year old he once had been. He was far taller now, with still wild but much shorter hair and piercing hazel eyes. In the back, an orange haired woman was writing the protocol, sometimes looking up, searching for his eyes and meeting them with a small smile.
His girlfriend, Sora Takenouchi, who was currently working part time with Taichi as secretary of the liberal party while trying to get her fashion business off ground. His glance fell onto the crowed where he recognised the red hair of Koushirou, who was (as always) working with his laptop but still found the time and concentration to look up to the podium every other minute, and the blue-haired Jyou beside him. Although he couldn’t see them to be there he knew that the younger ones, Miyako and Ken, to be there.
Daisuke, Mimi and Iori hadn’t been able to make it. Daisuke was currently working in a ramenbar, trying to fulfil his dream of becoming a great ramencook. Mimi had a job interview with some restaurant and Iori was in the process of moving away from Odaiba. Takeru and Hikari, the new weds of the group, were still travelling through the States right now and wouldn’t be back for another three months.
Smiling he thought of his baby brother’s big day, how nervous he had been! But it had been a perfect day and the last meeting of all Chosen Children. Another wave of sadness overcame him at the thought of the Digital World. It had been seven years since the last time they had seen their partners. Unconsciously he reached for the cold crest beneath his shirt.
Originally they had let their partners return after Genai had informed them about another reconfiguration of the Digital World, a process that should have taken merely a month. But something had gone horribly wrong and they had found themselves helpless in the face of a strange red program called D-Reaper.
But as they had found out then, there had been other Chosen Children within Japan they hadn’t known of, who had been able to handle the problem. However, ever since that incident there had been no sign of the Digimon or Genai or the Digital World in general (not counting a strange disturbance in Shibuya that had occurred six years ago).
Koushirou had tried to track down the Chosen Children in West-Shinjuku but since he had only seen the Digimon but never the Chosen themselves and hadn’t had the slightest hint of a name to go by, he eventually had given up his search.
‘In reality…’ Yamato thought, ‘…we all are still looking for signs of the Digimon. In the end, everyone of us has dictated his life somehow to the Digital World.’
It was true, even for him.
Taichi’s desire to enter politics had more to do with his wish to be able to speak up for the Digimon on the day they were exposed to human race than with anything else. Koushirou was looking always for signs of the Digiworld, his natural curiosity and desire to gather more knowledge were driving him. He even had written a paper about Network connections full with subtle hints and theories about the possibility of sentient life within the world wide network.
Jyou continued his training as doctor, secretly hoping that someday he would able to set up practice in the Digital World. And Yamato himself was still dedicated to his music, not only for himself but also for Gabumon, who had always loved to listen to the sounds he created.
A sigh escaped him while he listened to Taichi, who was just concluding his speech, and he shook his head, trying to get rid of any thoughts about Digimon. Right now wasn’t the time to get nostalgic. Right now he had a friend to support.
The sound of a closing lighter snapped him out of his thoughts and he found its source right beside him in an almost suspicious looking, blond man with sunglasses. The man was a bit taller than himself and wore a black suite (which made Yamato grin as he imagined the man hunting green aliens).
As the speech ended and everyone was clapping Yamato couldn’t quite stop himself from leaning over to him, whispering: “You know… The Man-in-Black-look is rather out right now.”
Snickering to himself when he saw the perplex frown on the man's face, he pushed himself from the wall and went to congratulate his best friend to a well done speech.
------
‘It’s finally over!’ Taichi thought almost relieved, still feeling the rush of standing in the center of the attention of such a large crowd.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident in his own rhetorical skills or the topics he was representing, but even so he couldn’t quite help but doubt his choice of profession from time to time (not quite in moments like now, but when he found himself in a room full with people that were almost all at least ten years older than him and treated him like a child because of it).
But in those moments of doubt, he often found himself flashing back to Agumon and the Digital World, the true reason behind his motivation. True, there was nothing much he could do just yet - he was far, far too low in the order of the party, lacking age and experience, but both of that would hopefully come with time and if the Digital World ever was revealed and needed someone to speak for it (and that day would come no matter what), he would be there and ready to defend it.
He felt somebody patting his shoulder and turned to face a grinning Yamato, who was congratulating him to have survived another meeting of boring politics. He answered playful and then looked over to his once love interest Sora, who had just approached them, smiling at her.
Now Koushiro and Jyou exited the room behind them, nearly completed the group, and Ken and Miyako too were already fighting their way through the crowd.
‘Life is good right now, even without contact to our Digimon.’ Taichi couldn’t help but think as they exited the building. ‘Sooner or later, we’ll see them again!’
At that moment he couldn’t have known just how much truth that statement held. A few weeks later he would pay attention to the shady movements in the clouds and the fog around them and to the characteristic sound of a closing lighter in the shadows.
But at that time he hadn’t known anything.
Yet.
------
At that very same evening, Mitsuo Yamaki entered his apartment heavily in thought, unaware of just how late it had become already. Not that there was anything unusual about that picture - there had often been nights when he had arrived late or even not at all at the place most more sentimental people would have called home, back when Hypnos had still been in function.
After the D-Reaper had appeared in Shinjuku, the government had originally allowed him to continue the project, but then after two years had passed with no sign of any sort of digital life (save a strange disturbance in Shibuya) they had started to cut his budget and three years ago they had closed the project as result of the economy crisis, saying that there was neither need nor money for it.
What fools they were, all of them, Mitsuo couldn’t help but think whenever he thought back to that day. Just because a danger was invisible, it wasn’t less real. But while losing Hypnos had been a hard hit, it hadn’t stop his desire to look out for Digimon. He was still in contact with Reika, Megumi and the Wild Bunch, ready to save the world, even if the government was set to stop him.
But fortunately losing his work as government agent hadn’t left him without work (a though he couldn’t stand. But Riley had already tagged him as a workaholic anyway). He had started to hold several seminars and lectures about physics, the world wide web and other networks on universities and colleges all across the country.
Today he had been at Odaiba University to synchronize the timetables and though he hadn’t planned for that visit to take all too long, he had felt himself drawn by the sound in the assembly hall.
He had sneaked in, leaned against the wall, arms folded and his trend mark lighter out and started to listen to the speech of a young man in his early twenties (Taichi Yagami as he found out later), who was running for a seat in Odaiba’s district council.
At first he had wanted to leave immediately, having no interest in listening to some young, idealistic hotshot with no reality conform outlook, but soon he had found himself charmed by the young man charisma and personality. Later he had observed the young man and his group of friends, noticing that they all seemed to have the same kind of aura. Most people wouldn’t have taken note of it, but for Mitsuo it was as clear as daylight. He almost felt like he recognised the feeling from somewhere else, but found that he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Some of the group seemed strangely familiar to him. One had been easily identified by quick internet research - the blond, who had made a rather bad comment on his lack of fashion sense in the hall and seemed to be best friends with Yagami, the popular Yamato Ishida, the lead guitar of ‘The Wolves’ (formally known as The Teenage Wolves).
But there had been another he had known right of the bat. Not from the media but from his last months in Hypnos. Although the boy was older now, face and red hair made him easy to recognize as Koushiro Izumi, the computer genius, who had written an intriguing piece of paper about the Internet and Networkconnections, which had been filled with slight speculations of the possibility of sentient life with in them. It didn’t seem much more than speculation, but in Mitsuo’s eyes it was enough to make Izumi both, a potential ally and suspect should any digital disturbance emerge.
Not that it seemed to matter right now - since the D-Reaper, there had been only been the case in Shibuya. It had been six years since and not the slightest sign of any digital life forms after that.
Peace had lasted.
But Mitsuo didn’t trust the peace. After all, easy trust had never been within his nature.
10/10/2011. . .
Shibuya High School. . . |
Iori was on the way to school. Although he already visited Shibuya High for over a week now (how quick time flew), he still wasn’t used to his new surroundings. While he went through the unfamiliar roads, he started to think about the past week. Life in Shibuya, he had discovered, was not as bad as he had feared.
Although he missed Odaiba and the other Chosen Children terribly, the companionship with Takuya and his friends made things far more bearable. He was still hesitant to call them his friends, but Takuya was a lot like Daisuke, a fact that annoyed and at the same time comfort Iori (though he didn’t want to think about what would happen if those two ever were to meet). He got along well with Kouji and Kouichi, the twins - they reminded him a bit of Takeru and Ken - and Junpei, whom he didn’t know quite well yet. Izumi had been all over him in the lunch break of his first day and with Tomoki, the youngest of the group, he could sympathise and so he would sometimes share his experiences (…the heavily edited version at least).
Over the week he had managed to get a good look on their personalities and habits. For example, was it a bad idea to annoy Izumi before she had gotten her first coffee (though Takuya reckless enough to do that about every second day). It also was better to leave a fight between Takuya and Kouji alone (if one wished to survive the day) and let Kouichi and Izumi do the meddling.
He was still doing his musings when he felt somebody tap against his shoulder. He turned to see a grinning Takuya. “What are you brooding about?” the brunet asked.
“I wasn’t brooding.” Iori muttered, a slight frown on his face.
“Sure, you weren’t.” Takuya answered easily. “You were looking like Kouji, when he…”
“Do you really care to continue that sentence?” a quiet voice behind them said. As they turned, the speaker was revealed to be the one they had just spoken about: Kouji, who took it immediately as a steppingstone to start yet another squabble. Iori sighed and fell back, while watching them.
‘Those two are as hopeless and even worse than Daisuke and Takeru were.’ he thought almost fondly. Actually they reminded him of the old stories, he had heard about Taichi and Yamato. From the side Kouichi neared and greeted him with a slight wave.
“How long have they been fighting already?” he asked, frowning at the pair in front of them.
“A few minutes.” Iori answered.
Kouichi sighed as he stepped forward to go between them, but that moment Iori placed his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Kouichi gave him a questioning look and Iori smiled as he remembered himself having the same reaction when Taichi and Yamato had stopped him from breaking up a fight between Daisuke and Takeru, so long ago.
“Just let them be. Some friends of mine once told me that sometimes it’s just better to let people fight.” he explained.
Kouichi looked doubting. “Are you sure that was meant as advise and not just an act of laziness?”
“I’m rather certain. From what I know, the ones, who gave me that advise, used to argue all the time and they are still best friends. Sounds like some people we know, doesn’t it.” Iori said, a light grin flashing over his face. Kouichi smiled softly, not fully convinced, but more than ready to give it a try.
Shortly afterwards Izumi, Junpei. and Tomoki met up with them and when they sat down in front of their tree Iori reflected, that the group he was with now, seemed a good place to stay. While they weren’t the Chosen Children, they projected a similar aura, of having seen more than their peers, what made Iori comfortable to open up with them.
‘I suppose… we are friends afterall.’ he thought happily.
------
Izumi sighed irritated, while sliding into her seat, and waited for an hour of boredom to come. Two weeks ago, their Physics- and Computer science-teacher had gotten into a serious car accident and they had been told that he wouldn’t be able to return for at least half a year. Due this, the old History teacher, who had no idea of Physics nor Computers, had started to substitute in his lessons.
The reason for her irritation lay somewhere else though: Takuya and Kouji had managed to start arguing even before they had crossed the school gate.
Not that the action in itself was much of a surprise, but normal they had enough sense to wait at least until reaching the school, which made it easier to break up their bickering. She had had to get violent to stop them. Now she couldn’t help but wonder why Kouichi, who normally always tried to keep them from fighting just like her, hadn’t done anything.
Just as she decided to ask him during lunch break, the classrooms door opened but instead of the History teacher, the head master entered, followed by an unfamiliar, red haired, young man with a laptop case. From the corner of her eyes she could see Iori tense and his eyes widen just a little at the sight of the young man.
Quickly they all stood up from their seats, straightening as the headmaster greeted them.
“You will be relieved to hear that we have finally found a substitute teacher, who will take over Hirota-sensei's classes and who will stay as assistant should we find another teacher.” the headmaster explained his visit, nodding to the young man, who bowed and introduced himself: “Good Morning. My name is Koushiro Izumi.”
The director nodded at him, then at the class, then left teacher and students to get acquainted with each other. Izumi watched interested as the young man before them frowned a little nervously before gesturing at them to sit down.
“So, I don’t suppose any of you have questions for me?” he asked, looking around, perhaps hoping for any of them to give him a starting point.
The class stayed silent however, not quite sure what to think of their new teacher - a feeling that seemed to be mutual.
Finally Izumi-san sighed.
“Okay maybe I went on this the wrong way.” he admitted, clearing his throat and straightening as if about to take charge. “Let me introduce myself again; then I will tell you the rules inside the classroom while I’m teaching and if you have any questions afterwards, I will answer them.”
A consenting murmur went through the rows, but died down when the teacher cleared his throat again.
“As I told you before, my name is Koushiro Izumi and I’m twenty-two years old. I have majored in Computer science with Physics as subsidiary subject and am just about to write my doctor.”
He went to the blackboard and started to write while continuing to speak to the class. “As for the rules, I would like to state that while I won’t give much of homework, your grade will consist to a major part of involvement on your part. I also ask you to relate your questions to Physics and Computer science respectively while in lesson.”
He turned back to them, turning the chalk between his fingers as he looked through their class. “Any questions left?”
Izumi saw how Iori lifted his hand and Mr. Izumi acknowledged him. “Yes, Mr…?”
“Hida, Iori Hida.” Iori answered. “How are we to address you, sensei?”
Izumi-san blushed a bit (though Izumi couldn’t tell if it was caused by the question or by the very formal adress) and suddenly looked sheepish.
“Well Hida-kun, I haven’t really thought about that yet…”, he trailed of, reverting back in personality “I guess it should be alright for you to call me Koushiro.” Iori nodded at that, his eyes never leaving Koushiro-san.
There was something more to this conversation than they let on, Izumi thought. She continued to watch their interaction through the rest of the lesson (Which was rather hard, since Koushiro-san turned out to be a quite good teacher.) There was some kind of secret between the student and the substitute, Izumi was sure of it. And she intended to find out.
------
Koushiro sighed relieved when the bell signalled the end of the first lesson and set down in the teacher’s chair, while the class left the room. Teaching seemed to be much more difficult then the job description let on.
‘And suddenly I find myself having far more respect for my own teachers…’ he thought slightly chuckling, shaking his head as he gathered together his papers.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a girl with waist long blond hair smiling down at him.
“Thank you for this interesting lesson, Koushiro-san.” she said and he nodded, a bit too surprised about that compliment - he had felt so nervous the whole time - to do much else. He watched her leave and talk to one of her classmates (“Already developed a crush on our new substitute?” “Shut up, Takuya!”).
Finally he stepped out of the classroom and into the probably usual chaos of hallway traffic between classes and decided to try and navigate to the computer lab when he felt someone pull at the sleeve of his jacket, finding Iori standing next to him when he turned his head.
“Wondering what I’m doing here?” he asked, a sheepish grin on his face.
“A little.” The younger Chosen Child admitted quietly, causing Koushiro to drop the grin and nod to himself. “Come. Let’s talk somewhere a little less busy.”
He somewhat managed to lead them to the teacher’s lounge - it would still take a few days until he would stop feeling a little lost inside the building - and felt grateful when he found it empty.
“What are you doing here.” Iori asked finally, after he had closed the door.
Koushiro looked straight into the younger Chosen Child eyes. He could see curiosity and delight but somewhere also something darker… was it fear? He was now totally serious - after all, he was very aware of what troubles their youngest member had at home right now.
“Did you think, we would just abandon you and cut of contact?” he asked rhetorically and Iori’s slightly guilty expression confirmed his assumption. He smiled to show that he wasn’t angry and continued. “Well I’m, or rather we are, here for quite a few reasons.”
At Iori’s questioning look he explained: “Jyou ’s here too. We are sharing the apartment - remind me to give you the address later. Anyway, the reasons… Well for one has Jyou will be starting his internship in the Shibuya Central Hospital next week, so he thought about moving anyway and after what you hinted at the wedding, we thought this would make a beneficial arrangement. Additionally, it presents the perfect opportunity for me to start researching the Shibuya incident from up close - I didn’t get the chance until now…”
Koushiro trailed off, a bit embarrassed. He had never been quite good at explaining himself.
It caused Iori to smile though, so he supposed it was all quite well. “I’m glade you are here.
“I may have found friends but it just isn’t the same without somebody to talk about… that time.”
Koushiro nodded, although surprised and glad that the younger boy had finally found somebody he considered a friend outside their circle. It reminded him of something though.
“Speaking of that time, I have something for you.” He searched through his bag and noticed the younger one glancing curiously over his shoulder. Maybe he thought that Koushiro had found a way to open the portal, but that was a wish the computer genius couldn’t fulfil, no matter how much he wanted to.
Instead he pulled out a small pack and gave it to Iori. Carefully he opened it and was surprised when a D-terminal and a yellow D3-Digivice fell out. Hadn’t he known that his mother had locked them away, he would have believed them to be real, but when he picked them up they felt cold, not like his own pair that had always seemed to vibrat soft, warm energy against his hand.
Koushiro observed how Iori examined the copies, slight confusion flashing over his face.
“They are just imitations of the real ones.” he explained after another moment. “I thought you should get you own, just in case.”
“How did you know?” Iori asked amazed.
“Well, it wasn’t all that hard to guess after the fifth unanswered mail.” Koushiro joked and then he reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out his own Digivice and gave it to Iori.
“I’ll lend you mine so you can find your Digivice.” Iori nodded and stuffed them all into his bag. The bell rang and they realised that they both had classes to be at.
“Thanks Koushiro!” Iori whispered as they exited the teachers lounge.
“It’s no problem.” Koushiro nodded. “But I think it would be the best for now to keep our acquaintance a secret.” Iori agreed and went of to his English lesson.
Koushiro watched him leave and he felt his heart ache at the thought of being separated with his Digivice. Unlike the others, who had hidden their own, Koushiro wore his always with him as a memory - though, the fact that it showed the time more accurate than anything else was quite a benefit too.
He shook his head to get rid of his irritation and got onto his next class. It wouldn’t make a good impression if he were to come late. Iori’s situation required his Digivice.
And besides, it wasn’t like he would need it anytime soon.
Odaiba District. . .|
It was early evening when Taichi left the central of the liberal party. He hadn’t planed to stay that long but the after elections discussion had taken longer than he thought. He would have to get used to it, he supposed; especially if he really was to take a seat in the city senat.
He shook his head and for a moment he longed back the days, when his biggest problem was the next evil Digimon, as he walked through the foggy streets. For a moment he wondered over the weather - it hadn’t been sunny for over two weeks now and from time to time the cloudy weather and the fog reminded much at the time when Vandemon had invaded Odaiba in search for eighth Chosen Child.
At this thought his hand shot up to the cold crest under his shirt, and he as so often, he found himself wishing to see his partner again. For just a moment his crest felt warm and it was almost like he could almost hear Agumon’s voice calling out for him…
The sound of a cat crashing into a waste bin snapped him out of his nostalgia. He shook his head anew to banish the unwelcome thoughts. The portals were closed and no wishful thinking was going to change that. With that thought in mind he left for home.
He hadn’t noticed the short glow of his crest when his hand had touched it and he couldn’t know about the beeping Digivice in his sock drawer, reading S.O.S. in deep red letters.
And he missed the soft voice of a small orange saurian echoing over the street he had been in just moments before.
“Taichi…”
--- To Be Continued ---
Unlike back then I’ve watched almost all series in their subbed version, and have now over three years more writing experience, which I hope does reflect in the differences of the rewrite to the original… a little at least. The new story will as I hope be a little darker, with a little less forced humour and be mostly based on the japanese original rather than the german dub.
About two years ago I also wrote a prequel oneshot that describes the events leading up to this prologue. It is called “As Time Goes By” and can be found through my profile for those who haven’t seen it yet and are interested.
Now that I’m done with all this tldr, let’s move on to the story. Please enjoy!
Category: Digimon: Zero Two, Tamers and Frontier
Characters: Taichi, Yamato, Koushiro, Iori, Mistuo Yamaki, Takuya, Izumi and many others
Warnings: a little bit AU, Seasons!crossover in case you haven't noticed yet. |D;;;
Summary: It has been nine years since the defeat of BelialVamdemon, and seven since the doors to Digital World have been closed for the Zero Two Chosen. But when Darkness and Despair spread, the Digital World calls out for its original Chosen Children. Endowed with new powers they must now ally with those who walked the path of the Chosen after them, all while dealing with work, college, high school and government agents?
Disclaimer: I don’t and will not ever own Digimon. The series belongs to respective companies and writers and I’m just playing around a little.
--- Guardians of the Spirits ---
--- Prologue ---
25. September 2011
Dear Hikari,
Thanks for your last mail, I’m glad to have heard from you. You guys sure had a blast at the East Cost, it seems. I hope you and Takeru keep enjoying your visit in the States. Your next stop is in Colorado isn’t it? In Odaiba is everything as normal as usual, and yes, I’ve not forgotten to remind Sora of her promise to you. She says, she surly will record it for you guys. ;)
I look forward to your next mail.
Have fun at your remaining Honeymoon.
Taichi
09/30/2011. . .
Shibuya High School. . . |
Seventeen years old Iori Hida nervously straightened his new school uniform for more than the first time this morning while continuing the way to his new school. It seemed questionable to move in the middle of the term and to start at a new school on a Friday, at least in his opinion, but his mother had thought otherwise. She had insisted that it was better for him to start fitting into their new environment as quick and soon as possible, to start anew now that they had lost his grandfather, whose death she claimed as reason to move.
And while Iori was sure that his grandfather’s death was at least part of it, he suspected the true reason to be of other nature. The Digimon. Because unlike his Grandfather who had accepted and always supported his role as Chosen Child, his mother had never quite been able to understand it. After all, all she had seen was her child being away, being in constant danger when the Digimon had invaded Odaiba in 2002.
Even now, long after the portal’s closing, she saw a danger in it, something her son was far too young for, even now at seventeen. She had changed her attitude towards the other Chosen, even towards Miyako, who had been a common and welcome guest before.
Most likely, he thought, the true reason of their move from Odaiba was to distance him from the other Chosen Children. While he had been permitted to go to Hikari and Takeru’s wedding, he knew that she was close to verbally forbidding him the contact to other Chosen Children. She had already taken his D3 Digivice and his D-Terminal after all.
That had been quite an issue between them, despite all respect he had for his mother - the Digivice and the D-Terminal were both part of who he was, or at least part of who he was supposed to be. He had tried to explain it to her, tried to tell her how the Digimon weren’t something he could just forget or ignore, and she had argued right back, why couldn’t he, why would he need his Digivice - the doors were supposedly closed, weren’t they?
In the end he had given in, as is it was proper for him to do as her son. However that didn’t mean that he was content with this solution, and part of him was close to rebel. Because here and now he was on his own, without friends, without anyone to confine. And yet, he told himself, he would endure. He would do as his mother wished, would visit school, perhaps even manage to make a few new friends.
And once this year was over and he finally finished with school, he would be able to return to Odaiba for college or university. It was simply a matter of time and patience. And patience was something that Iori was good at. But even so, somehow he couldn’t help the feeling that this was going to be a really long year.
He sighed as he finally arrived at the school gate, clearing his thoughts to get rid of his nervousness just before entering the grounds. He looked around curiously and found that he was far from being the only one on the school grounds. Quietly he took note of the groups of giggling girls that walked towards the entrance and of how the boys joked around casually, not all to worried about being late for class. All in all, one would almost call it cliché.
‘Not really a place I fit into.’ he thought carefully neutral as if stating a fact. For a moment he wondered if he should just leave, when a sudden flash of light blinded him. Blinking for a moment he searched for its origins and found it in the reflection of the goggles of a boy with wild, brown hair, who was playing around with a soccer ball.
“Daisuke-san…” Iori whispered confused, seeing the goggles and hearing to the familiar sound of a bouncing ball that he associated to the loud leader of the second Generation of Chosen Children.
But he quickly realised his mistake; the boy’s hair had a much lighter shade of brown and the design of the goggles was different. Not to mention that Daisuke had already graduated two years before and it was totally impossible for him to be there.
Now he started to notice the people around the boy: The boy with the goggles was arguing with another boy with long black hair, which was kept back by a bandana and almost standing between them was a third boy with black hair - probably the brother of the first; one could see the resemblance - who was trying his best to stop their fight with softly spoken words.
Sitting on the ground a bit further from them, yet close enough to be counted as a group, was a girl with long blond hair and a younger boy, around fourteen, who was wearing in the uniform of the neighbour junior high school. The last boy, a bit chubby and probably the oldest of their group, entertained both of them with his magic tricks.
Iori continued to stare; familiar memories about a rather similar scene were fighting their way into his mind: Daisuke playing around with his soccer ball, mock-fighting Takeru and Ken sometimes involving himself to save his best friend from being embarrassed, while Hikari and Miyako would chat sometimes about fashion or perhaps gossip a bit. He himself would sit back and enjoy being with his friends, knowing that soon ten hours of school would separate them.
However Iori was snapped out of his reminiscing thoughts when he heard the goggle-boy shouting in his direction. Apparently he had been caught staring. Shaking his head to get rid of the memories he turned around, ignoring the goggle-boy and his friends and everything they reminded him of.
It was better not to think about the past. Not when he had a present to focus on.
------
Objectively speaking, it was a day as any other, as far as Takuya Kanbara was concerned at least. Good in the sense that it was Friday (finally!) and with that almost weekend (he truly couldn’t wait to storm out of school again and breath and enjoy the last of this mild October’s sunrays), bad in the sense that Friday meant two hours Maths class, which he loathed to sit through - especially on a sunny day like this. Nothing truly extraordinary.
Yet , ever since dragging himself out of bed and to breakfast Takuya hadn’t been able to shake the small smile and feeling of contentedness, the subconscious knowledge that this day just had to be good in every possible sense of the word - even if nothing indicated anything to be out of the ordinary. Not even now as he argued with his (rival? Best friend? Former-Brother-in-arms?) friend Kouji Minamoto over some meaningless detail he had already forgotten to the most part again, even as the other’s brother, Kouichi Minamoto decided to try to break up their disagreement for the sake of re-schedule the headache he surely would have to suffer due this to after three pm instead of already 8:30 am - this feeling didn’t change and inwardly Takuya couldn’t help but smile.
Life had been good to them since their days in the Digital World - he hardly wasted a thought to the other world anymore. Sure, every once in a while he wondered how Bokomon and Neemon and Patamon and all the others were doing and he kept gravitating to the group he had travelled with, his friends, once strangers met on a train to a different world. But fact was that despite their deep down wish to visit the other world once more, it was highly improbable that they would see it again. All of them still had the cell phones that once had turned into the almost magical device called D-Tectores, but that was all they were - cell phones, long out of function and replaced by handier, more up-to-date devices. At that precise moment, the Digital World was nothing but a thought of the past to Takuya Kanbara.
And due that it was no wonder that it took him a moment to recognize the chill that suddenly wandered down his spine as he listened to Kouchi, the sure feeling of not being alone, of being watched and observed - an untrained instinct left from the Digiworld.
“Cat caught your tongue?” Kouji asked with a seemingly indifferent eyebrow raised (Takuya had learned to read behind the facade by now and saw the small signs of concern; he must have blacked out for a moment as he had tried to identify the feeling) and now he noticed that the others had become equally disturbed by his behaviour. He turned his head, searching for the source of disturbance.
“That’s not…” Takuya trailed off, finally having found the target of his search in a boy around their age with short dark brown hair he had never seen before. Though now he noted, the boy didn’t seem to stare at them but rather on something past them.
“Oi, what’s your problem!” Takuya shouted annoyed, snapping the boy out of his thoughts - deep down wondering just why the boy’s stare had awoken the memories of the other world.
The boy didn’t say anything but turned around and left to the school entrance.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Takuya called after him but the boy didn’t seem to hear him and when he lunged forward he felt himself struggle against Kouji’s grip.
“It’s not worth is.” the former holder of the Spirits of Light noted. Expression closed in a frown. Takuya resigned and nodded, bracing himself for Izumi’s inescapable coming speech about his sense of tact… or rather his there lack of.
------
Half an hour later Takuya sat in class 7-B, waiting for five hours of torture and boredom to start. He glanced over to the other side of the room, where Izumi (who had refused to talk to him after chewing him out) sat and talked with the other girls. Takuya himself didn’t quite feel like talking right now - he was still puzzling a bit over the feeling and memory from before.
Ever since their time in the Digital World he had the feeling of being different then his peers, more responsibly and mature (though Izumi often doubted the later attribute). There was simply something lacking in their peers - an experience that they couldn’t possibly begin to understand and while at first it had made him feel almost isolated outside their group, they all had learned to deal with it very quickly. Being different was hardly a bad thing after all. Takuya shook his head to chase away the memories - there was no reason to destroy a perfectly good day by brooding; he left that sort of attitude to Kouji - and trained his glance to the black board and the him foreign name that was written on it.
‘Iori Hida…’ Takuya read silently, furiously thinking if they had heard the name in yesterday’s history class or if they were simply getting a new student. With his memory both options were a certain possibility.
Finally their maths teacher entered the room, but instead of immediately continuing where they had left of the last time, the teacher made a gesture to the door and said: “Class, today we are welcoming a new student in our mid. Please treat him with respect.” and asked him to come in.
The door opened and a boy came in, walking a bit stiff in front of the class. First he gave a short bow to the teacher as thanks then to the class as greeting. “My name is Iori Hida. It is nice to meet you.”
Takuya’s mouth fell open when he recognized the boy before. The teacher nodded and said: “Well Hida-kun where would it be the best to place you… Ah next to Kanbara-kun. Kanbara-kun, please lift your hand!”
Takuya snapped out of his astonishment and did as his teacher asked. The boy, Hida, saw him and recognition flickered his eyes, while he sat down beside Takuya. For a moment Takuya debated about remarking about earlier but when he saw the slight blush that had crept onto Hida’s cheeks he decided against it.
For one he seemed already embarrassed about what had happened and Takuya wasn’t after all somebody to hold a grunge (Not to mention that he could already feel Izumi’s eyes in his neck, warning him about saying anything tactless).
So he showed his best happy-go-lucky expression and whispered: “Hi, I’m Takuya Kanbara. Nice to meet ‘cha.”
Iori blinked surprised but didn’t react the Kouji-way as Takuya had dubbed it (a.k.a. the only sound of acknowledgement being a ‘Hn’), but with a small, almost shy smile and a nod before turning on to the lesson.
At some other time Takuya might have frowned and thought himself and his attempt to offer friendship ignored, but somehow he knew that with Hida had accepted this attempt to connect, that this had been the first step (small but definitely a good foundation with the other). And as Takuya turned his glace from his new class mate to the black board, starting to copy the differential equations his teacher had been writing down the last two minutes, he couldn’t help but note that Hida somehow reminded him of something - he couldn’t quite get a gip on of what.
So he shrugged it off and concentrated on the task on hand, not aware that the look in Iori Hida’s eyes reminded him of the very people he spent his every day with - of somebody who had once seen a fantastic world, beautiful and broken and who had set out and succeeded to put it back together.
Of somebody who had once been called a Chosen Child.
Odaiba University. . . |
Odaiba University was an impressive building, a tall, modern structure of metal and glass. It was a rather cloudy Friday afternoon, and normally on such a day the campus would be full of students on their way into weekend, yet there was not a soul in front of the building. Instead the most of them were sitting in the right now cram-full conference hall, listening to every word of the charismatic, young man, who was addressing the audience.
In the back of said room stood a blond haired man, who appeared the same age as the speaker, leaning at the wall with his arms fold and his eyes trained on the events in front of him. The blond, Yamato Ishida, couldn’t help but grin as he watched how his best friend cunningly talked and answered questions of the audience.
Who would have thought 12 years ago that the hot-headed leader of the original Chosen Children would make such a good politician? Heck, even five years ago Yamato would have had trouble to believe that one. And yet… here stood Taichi Yagami as youngest nominee of the liberal party’s Tokyo division, on the verge of taking a seat in the district council.
Yamato observed his friend, who had changed drastically from the hasty twelve-year old he once had been. He was far taller now, with still wild but much shorter hair and piercing hazel eyes. In the back, an orange haired woman was writing the protocol, sometimes looking up, searching for his eyes and meeting them with a small smile.
His girlfriend, Sora Takenouchi, who was currently working part time with Taichi as secretary of the liberal party while trying to get her fashion business off ground. His glance fell onto the crowed where he recognised the red hair of Koushirou, who was (as always) working with his laptop but still found the time and concentration to look up to the podium every other minute, and the blue-haired Jyou beside him. Although he couldn’t see them to be there he knew that the younger ones, Miyako and Ken, to be there.
Daisuke, Mimi and Iori hadn’t been able to make it. Daisuke was currently working in a ramenbar, trying to fulfil his dream of becoming a great ramencook. Mimi had a job interview with some restaurant and Iori was in the process of moving away from Odaiba. Takeru and Hikari, the new weds of the group, were still travelling through the States right now and wouldn’t be back for another three months.
Smiling he thought of his baby brother’s big day, how nervous he had been! But it had been a perfect day and the last meeting of all Chosen Children. Another wave of sadness overcame him at the thought of the Digital World. It had been seven years since the last time they had seen their partners. Unconsciously he reached for the cold crest beneath his shirt.
Originally they had let their partners return after Genai had informed them about another reconfiguration of the Digital World, a process that should have taken merely a month. But something had gone horribly wrong and they had found themselves helpless in the face of a strange red program called D-Reaper.
But as they had found out then, there had been other Chosen Children within Japan they hadn’t known of, who had been able to handle the problem. However, ever since that incident there had been no sign of the Digimon or Genai or the Digital World in general (not counting a strange disturbance in Shibuya that had occurred six years ago).
Koushirou had tried to track down the Chosen Children in West-Shinjuku but since he had only seen the Digimon but never the Chosen themselves and hadn’t had the slightest hint of a name to go by, he eventually had given up his search.
‘In reality…’ Yamato thought, ‘…we all are still looking for signs of the Digimon. In the end, everyone of us has dictated his life somehow to the Digital World.’
It was true, even for him.
Taichi’s desire to enter politics had more to do with his wish to be able to speak up for the Digimon on the day they were exposed to human race than with anything else. Koushirou was looking always for signs of the Digiworld, his natural curiosity and desire to gather more knowledge were driving him. He even had written a paper about Network connections full with subtle hints and theories about the possibility of sentient life within the world wide network.
Jyou continued his training as doctor, secretly hoping that someday he would able to set up practice in the Digital World. And Yamato himself was still dedicated to his music, not only for himself but also for Gabumon, who had always loved to listen to the sounds he created.
A sigh escaped him while he listened to Taichi, who was just concluding his speech, and he shook his head, trying to get rid of any thoughts about Digimon. Right now wasn’t the time to get nostalgic. Right now he had a friend to support.
The sound of a closing lighter snapped him out of his thoughts and he found its source right beside him in an almost suspicious looking, blond man with sunglasses. The man was a bit taller than himself and wore a black suite (which made Yamato grin as he imagined the man hunting green aliens).
As the speech ended and everyone was clapping Yamato couldn’t quite stop himself from leaning over to him, whispering: “You know… The Man-in-Black-look is rather out right now.”
Snickering to himself when he saw the perplex frown on the man's face, he pushed himself from the wall and went to congratulate his best friend to a well done speech.
------
‘It’s finally over!’ Taichi thought almost relieved, still feeling the rush of standing in the center of the attention of such a large crowd.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident in his own rhetorical skills or the topics he was representing, but even so he couldn’t quite help but doubt his choice of profession from time to time (not quite in moments like now, but when he found himself in a room full with people that were almost all at least ten years older than him and treated him like a child because of it).
But in those moments of doubt, he often found himself flashing back to Agumon and the Digital World, the true reason behind his motivation. True, there was nothing much he could do just yet - he was far, far too low in the order of the party, lacking age and experience, but both of that would hopefully come with time and if the Digital World ever was revealed and needed someone to speak for it (and that day would come no matter what), he would be there and ready to defend it.
He felt somebody patting his shoulder and turned to face a grinning Yamato, who was congratulating him to have survived another meeting of boring politics. He answered playful and then looked over to his once love interest Sora, who had just approached them, smiling at her.
Now Koushiro and Jyou exited the room behind them, nearly completed the group, and Ken and Miyako too were already fighting their way through the crowd.
‘Life is good right now, even without contact to our Digimon.’ Taichi couldn’t help but think as they exited the building. ‘Sooner or later, we’ll see them again!’
At that moment he couldn’t have known just how much truth that statement held. A few weeks later he would pay attention to the shady movements in the clouds and the fog around them and to the characteristic sound of a closing lighter in the shadows.
But at that time he hadn’t known anything.
Yet.
------
At that very same evening, Mitsuo Yamaki entered his apartment heavily in thought, unaware of just how late it had become already. Not that there was anything unusual about that picture - there had often been nights when he had arrived late or even not at all at the place most more sentimental people would have called home, back when Hypnos had still been in function.
After the D-Reaper had appeared in Shinjuku, the government had originally allowed him to continue the project, but then after two years had passed with no sign of any sort of digital life (save a strange disturbance in Shibuya) they had started to cut his budget and three years ago they had closed the project as result of the economy crisis, saying that there was neither need nor money for it.
What fools they were, all of them, Mitsuo couldn’t help but think whenever he thought back to that day. Just because a danger was invisible, it wasn’t less real. But while losing Hypnos had been a hard hit, it hadn’t stop his desire to look out for Digimon. He was still in contact with Reika, Megumi and the Wild Bunch, ready to save the world, even if the government was set to stop him.
But fortunately losing his work as government agent hadn’t left him without work (a though he couldn’t stand. But Riley had already tagged him as a workaholic anyway). He had started to hold several seminars and lectures about physics, the world wide web and other networks on universities and colleges all across the country.
Today he had been at Odaiba University to synchronize the timetables and though he hadn’t planned for that visit to take all too long, he had felt himself drawn by the sound in the assembly hall.
He had sneaked in, leaned against the wall, arms folded and his trend mark lighter out and started to listen to the speech of a young man in his early twenties (Taichi Yagami as he found out later), who was running for a seat in Odaiba’s district council.
At first he had wanted to leave immediately, having no interest in listening to some young, idealistic hotshot with no reality conform outlook, but soon he had found himself charmed by the young man charisma and personality. Later he had observed the young man and his group of friends, noticing that they all seemed to have the same kind of aura. Most people wouldn’t have taken note of it, but for Mitsuo it was as clear as daylight. He almost felt like he recognised the feeling from somewhere else, but found that he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Some of the group seemed strangely familiar to him. One had been easily identified by quick internet research - the blond, who had made a rather bad comment on his lack of fashion sense in the hall and seemed to be best friends with Yagami, the popular Yamato Ishida, the lead guitar of ‘The Wolves’ (formally known as The Teenage Wolves).
But there had been another he had known right of the bat. Not from the media but from his last months in Hypnos. Although the boy was older now, face and red hair made him easy to recognize as Koushiro Izumi, the computer genius, who had written an intriguing piece of paper about the Internet and Networkconnections, which had been filled with slight speculations of the possibility of sentient life with in them. It didn’t seem much more than speculation, but in Mitsuo’s eyes it was enough to make Izumi both, a potential ally and suspect should any digital disturbance emerge.
Not that it seemed to matter right now - since the D-Reaper, there had been only been the case in Shibuya. It had been six years since and not the slightest sign of any digital life forms after that.
Peace had lasted.
But Mitsuo didn’t trust the peace. After all, easy trust had never been within his nature.
10/10/2011. . .
Shibuya High School. . . |
Iori was on the way to school. Although he already visited Shibuya High for over a week now (how quick time flew), he still wasn’t used to his new surroundings. While he went through the unfamiliar roads, he started to think about the past week. Life in Shibuya, he had discovered, was not as bad as he had feared.
Although he missed Odaiba and the other Chosen Children terribly, the companionship with Takuya and his friends made things far more bearable. He was still hesitant to call them his friends, but Takuya was a lot like Daisuke, a fact that annoyed and at the same time comfort Iori (though he didn’t want to think about what would happen if those two ever were to meet). He got along well with Kouji and Kouichi, the twins - they reminded him a bit of Takeru and Ken - and Junpei, whom he didn’t know quite well yet. Izumi had been all over him in the lunch break of his first day and with Tomoki, the youngest of the group, he could sympathise and so he would sometimes share his experiences (…the heavily edited version at least).
Over the week he had managed to get a good look on their personalities and habits. For example, was it a bad idea to annoy Izumi before she had gotten her first coffee (though Takuya reckless enough to do that about every second day). It also was better to leave a fight between Takuya and Kouji alone (if one wished to survive the day) and let Kouichi and Izumi do the meddling.
He was still doing his musings when he felt somebody tap against his shoulder. He turned to see a grinning Takuya. “What are you brooding about?” the brunet asked.
“I wasn’t brooding.” Iori muttered, a slight frown on his face.
“Sure, you weren’t.” Takuya answered easily. “You were looking like Kouji, when he…”
“Do you really care to continue that sentence?” a quiet voice behind them said. As they turned, the speaker was revealed to be the one they had just spoken about: Kouji, who took it immediately as a steppingstone to start yet another squabble. Iori sighed and fell back, while watching them.
‘Those two are as hopeless and even worse than Daisuke and Takeru were.’ he thought almost fondly. Actually they reminded him of the old stories, he had heard about Taichi and Yamato. From the side Kouichi neared and greeted him with a slight wave.
“How long have they been fighting already?” he asked, frowning at the pair in front of them.
“A few minutes.” Iori answered.
Kouichi sighed as he stepped forward to go between them, but that moment Iori placed his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Kouichi gave him a questioning look and Iori smiled as he remembered himself having the same reaction when Taichi and Yamato had stopped him from breaking up a fight between Daisuke and Takeru, so long ago.
“Just let them be. Some friends of mine once told me that sometimes it’s just better to let people fight.” he explained.
Kouichi looked doubting. “Are you sure that was meant as advise and not just an act of laziness?”
“I’m rather certain. From what I know, the ones, who gave me that advise, used to argue all the time and they are still best friends. Sounds like some people we know, doesn’t it.” Iori said, a light grin flashing over his face. Kouichi smiled softly, not fully convinced, but more than ready to give it a try.
Shortly afterwards Izumi, Junpei. and Tomoki met up with them and when they sat down in front of their tree Iori reflected, that the group he was with now, seemed a good place to stay. While they weren’t the Chosen Children, they projected a similar aura, of having seen more than their peers, what made Iori comfortable to open up with them.
‘I suppose… we are friends afterall.’ he thought happily.
------
Izumi sighed irritated, while sliding into her seat, and waited for an hour of boredom to come. Two weeks ago, their Physics- and Computer science-teacher had gotten into a serious car accident and they had been told that he wouldn’t be able to return for at least half a year. Due this, the old History teacher, who had no idea of Physics nor Computers, had started to substitute in his lessons.
The reason for her irritation lay somewhere else though: Takuya and Kouji had managed to start arguing even before they had crossed the school gate.
Not that the action in itself was much of a surprise, but normal they had enough sense to wait at least until reaching the school, which made it easier to break up their bickering. She had had to get violent to stop them. Now she couldn’t help but wonder why Kouichi, who normally always tried to keep them from fighting just like her, hadn’t done anything.
Just as she decided to ask him during lunch break, the classrooms door opened but instead of the History teacher, the head master entered, followed by an unfamiliar, red haired, young man with a laptop case. From the corner of her eyes she could see Iori tense and his eyes widen just a little at the sight of the young man.
Quickly they all stood up from their seats, straightening as the headmaster greeted them.
“You will be relieved to hear that we have finally found a substitute teacher, who will take over Hirota-sensei's classes and who will stay as assistant should we find another teacher.” the headmaster explained his visit, nodding to the young man, who bowed and introduced himself: “Good Morning. My name is Koushiro Izumi.”
The director nodded at him, then at the class, then left teacher and students to get acquainted with each other. Izumi watched interested as the young man before them frowned a little nervously before gesturing at them to sit down.
“So, I don’t suppose any of you have questions for me?” he asked, looking around, perhaps hoping for any of them to give him a starting point.
The class stayed silent however, not quite sure what to think of their new teacher - a feeling that seemed to be mutual.
Finally Izumi-san sighed.
“Okay maybe I went on this the wrong way.” he admitted, clearing his throat and straightening as if about to take charge. “Let me introduce myself again; then I will tell you the rules inside the classroom while I’m teaching and if you have any questions afterwards, I will answer them.”
A consenting murmur went through the rows, but died down when the teacher cleared his throat again.
“As I told you before, my name is Koushiro Izumi and I’m twenty-two years old. I have majored in Computer science with Physics as subsidiary subject and am just about to write my doctor.”
He went to the blackboard and started to write while continuing to speak to the class. “As for the rules, I would like to state that while I won’t give much of homework, your grade will consist to a major part of involvement on your part. I also ask you to relate your questions to Physics and Computer science respectively while in lesson.”
He turned back to them, turning the chalk between his fingers as he looked through their class. “Any questions left?”
Izumi saw how Iori lifted his hand and Mr. Izumi acknowledged him. “Yes, Mr…?”
“Hida, Iori Hida.” Iori answered. “How are we to address you, sensei?”
Izumi-san blushed a bit (though Izumi couldn’t tell if it was caused by the question or by the very formal adress) and suddenly looked sheepish.
“Well Hida-kun, I haven’t really thought about that yet…”, he trailed of, reverting back in personality “I guess it should be alright for you to call me Koushiro.” Iori nodded at that, his eyes never leaving Koushiro-san.
There was something more to this conversation than they let on, Izumi thought. She continued to watch their interaction through the rest of the lesson (Which was rather hard, since Koushiro-san turned out to be a quite good teacher.) There was some kind of secret between the student and the substitute, Izumi was sure of it. And she intended to find out.
------
Koushiro sighed relieved when the bell signalled the end of the first lesson and set down in the teacher’s chair, while the class left the room. Teaching seemed to be much more difficult then the job description let on.
‘And suddenly I find myself having far more respect for my own teachers…’ he thought slightly chuckling, shaking his head as he gathered together his papers.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a girl with waist long blond hair smiling down at him.
“Thank you for this interesting lesson, Koushiro-san.” she said and he nodded, a bit too surprised about that compliment - he had felt so nervous the whole time - to do much else. He watched her leave and talk to one of her classmates (“Already developed a crush on our new substitute?” “Shut up, Takuya!”).
Finally he stepped out of the classroom and into the probably usual chaos of hallway traffic between classes and decided to try and navigate to the computer lab when he felt someone pull at the sleeve of his jacket, finding Iori standing next to him when he turned his head.
“Wondering what I’m doing here?” he asked, a sheepish grin on his face.
“A little.” The younger Chosen Child admitted quietly, causing Koushiro to drop the grin and nod to himself. “Come. Let’s talk somewhere a little less busy.”
He somewhat managed to lead them to the teacher’s lounge - it would still take a few days until he would stop feeling a little lost inside the building - and felt grateful when he found it empty.
“What are you doing here.” Iori asked finally, after he had closed the door.
Koushiro looked straight into the younger Chosen Child eyes. He could see curiosity and delight but somewhere also something darker… was it fear? He was now totally serious - after all, he was very aware of what troubles their youngest member had at home right now.
“Did you think, we would just abandon you and cut of contact?” he asked rhetorically and Iori’s slightly guilty expression confirmed his assumption. He smiled to show that he wasn’t angry and continued. “Well I’m, or rather we are, here for quite a few reasons.”
At Iori’s questioning look he explained: “Jyou ’s here too. We are sharing the apartment - remind me to give you the address later. Anyway, the reasons… Well for one has Jyou will be starting his internship in the Shibuya Central Hospital next week, so he thought about moving anyway and after what you hinted at the wedding, we thought this would make a beneficial arrangement. Additionally, it presents the perfect opportunity for me to start researching the Shibuya incident from up close - I didn’t get the chance until now…”
Koushiro trailed off, a bit embarrassed. He had never been quite good at explaining himself.
It caused Iori to smile though, so he supposed it was all quite well. “I’m glade you are here.
“I may have found friends but it just isn’t the same without somebody to talk about… that time.”
Koushiro nodded, although surprised and glad that the younger boy had finally found somebody he considered a friend outside their circle. It reminded him of something though.
“Speaking of that time, I have something for you.” He searched through his bag and noticed the younger one glancing curiously over his shoulder. Maybe he thought that Koushiro had found a way to open the portal, but that was a wish the computer genius couldn’t fulfil, no matter how much he wanted to.
Instead he pulled out a small pack and gave it to Iori. Carefully he opened it and was surprised when a D-terminal and a yellow D3-Digivice fell out. Hadn’t he known that his mother had locked them away, he would have believed them to be real, but when he picked them up they felt cold, not like his own pair that had always seemed to vibrat soft, warm energy against his hand.
Koushiro observed how Iori examined the copies, slight confusion flashing over his face.
“They are just imitations of the real ones.” he explained after another moment. “I thought you should get you own, just in case.”
“How did you know?” Iori asked amazed.
“Well, it wasn’t all that hard to guess after the fifth unanswered mail.” Koushiro joked and then he reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out his own Digivice and gave it to Iori.
“I’ll lend you mine so you can find your Digivice.” Iori nodded and stuffed them all into his bag. The bell rang and they realised that they both had classes to be at.
“Thanks Koushiro!” Iori whispered as they exited the teachers lounge.
“It’s no problem.” Koushiro nodded. “But I think it would be the best for now to keep our acquaintance a secret.” Iori agreed and went of to his English lesson.
Koushiro watched him leave and he felt his heart ache at the thought of being separated with his Digivice. Unlike the others, who had hidden their own, Koushiro wore his always with him as a memory - though, the fact that it showed the time more accurate than anything else was quite a benefit too.
He shook his head to get rid of his irritation and got onto his next class. It wouldn’t make a good impression if he were to come late. Iori’s situation required his Digivice.
And besides, it wasn’t like he would need it anytime soon.
Odaiba District. . .|
It was early evening when Taichi left the central of the liberal party. He hadn’t planed to stay that long but the after elections discussion had taken longer than he thought. He would have to get used to it, he supposed; especially if he really was to take a seat in the city senat.
He shook his head and for a moment he longed back the days, when his biggest problem was the next evil Digimon, as he walked through the foggy streets. For a moment he wondered over the weather - it hadn’t been sunny for over two weeks now and from time to time the cloudy weather and the fog reminded much at the time when Vandemon had invaded Odaiba in search for eighth Chosen Child.
At this thought his hand shot up to the cold crest under his shirt, and he as so often, he found himself wishing to see his partner again. For just a moment his crest felt warm and it was almost like he could almost hear Agumon’s voice calling out for him…
The sound of a cat crashing into a waste bin snapped him out of his nostalgia. He shook his head anew to banish the unwelcome thoughts. The portals were closed and no wishful thinking was going to change that. With that thought in mind he left for home.
He hadn’t noticed the short glow of his crest when his hand had touched it and he couldn’t know about the beeping Digivice in his sock drawer, reading S.O.S. in deep red letters.
And he missed the soft voice of a small orange saurian echoing over the street he had been in just moments before.
“Taichi…”
--- To Be Continued ---