Chapter Text
“We don't have a choice, Flamemon! We have to tell Koji about this!”
Flamemon sighs. He's sitting in a backwards-turned chair in Tommy's room, giving his fiery tail room to smolder brightly behind him. “I know,” the digimon-boy says. “He's not going to like this, though...”
“Well, too bad for him,” says J.P. “I don't understand why we haven't been talking to him in the first place. What, after everything we've been through, suddenly he doesn't want anything to do with us?”
“Look, he just - !” Flamemon bites his lip. “ - He just – it's hard for him, dealing with Koichi's death, alright?”
Everyone falls quiet.
“We all miss Koichi,” says Zoe at last.
“But it's not the same. You know it's not.”
“It's not like they were really brothers,” says J.P. “I mean, they just met.”
Zoe smacks his arm. “Junpei!”
“What?!”
“Of course they were brothers! And if you say anything like that to Koji - !”
“Hey, no, of course I wouldn't - “
“Then what did you mean by it - “
“I didn't - “
“Guys.” Flamemon growls out the word, making them jump.
“Isn't that just one more reason to be there for him?” asks Tommy quietly. “I mean, we're his friends, after all...”
“I'm not so sure Koji's the type who really wants company when he's upset... but, yeah, it's past time we talked to him anyway. And this - “ Flamemon flexes one of his overly-large hands for emphasis – “is just one more reason.”
“If nothing else, we can use you to get his attention,” J.P. mutters.
Everyone laughs nervously.
“Have any of you managed to digivolve yet?”
“Nope.”
“Nope.”
“Not me.”
“I bet when Tommy does it, he'll be so tiny we'll lose him,” J.P. adds.
“Aw, I will not.”
“Are you kidding? You shrink when you become Kumamon – at rookie-level, you might disappear!”
“Don't be so mean, J.P.,” Zoe teases, “Those are big words, coming from the guy who'll probably turn into an ittie bittie bug.”
J.P.'s face sours.
“Now what's that supposed to - “
A knock comes at the door. “Tommy?”
Flamemon glows brightly.
“Yeah?”
By the time Yutaka opens the door, four children grin up at him – including a ruffled, only slightly singed Takuya.
Yutaka eyes them oddly. “...Dinner's ready?”
“Oh. Thanks.”
It shouldn't be hard to find Koji – they already know where he lives, after all, and Minamoto Emi knows Takuya's face, even if they hadn't parted on the best of terms last time. But when the group arrives at the Minamoto residence, wondering already how they're going to argue their way in, they don't find Koji.
“Oh, thank goodness,” says Emi as she opens the door. “Juro! His friends are here!”
They hear loud footsteps come from a distant part of the house.
“Please, come in – you are Koji's friends, aren't you? That's why you're here?”
“Uh, yeah,” Takuya says.
“Were you expecting us?” asks Zoe.
They're ushered into the main room and sit down. Minamoto Juro joins them. He looks worn and a little upset.
“Did he tell you anything?” He asks abruptly.
And, okay, so maybe Takuya is thinking it was a bad idea to leave Koji alone, after all.
“Tell us what?”
“Where he is! Where he's gone?”
Tommy is the first to get it. “Are you saying Koji's gone?”
“That's horrible!” Zoe exclaims.
Juro stares at her, then at the rest of them. “So... you... you don't know.”
“We just came here to talk,” Takuya says. “Please – can you tell us what happened?”
Juro turns his head away. “No.”
“No?!”
“He's gone, alright? If you can't help, get out. We have enough to worry about.”
“Juro,” Emi murmurs.
“What? It's not like they were good friends of his; I've never seen them before in my life.”
“I've seen this one,” says Emi, gesturing at Takuya.
Juro ignores her. “Go, I said. Tell us if you hear from him.” And, apparently considering the matter settled, he rises to his feet and stomps from the room.
The children shout after him. Emi sighs. “I'm sorry,” she says, rising. “But there's nothing we can do for you.”
She moves to start gesturing them toward the door. But they aren't ready to go, not yet. “Hey, come on, lady!” J.P. shouts. “This is our friend we're talking about here! Can't you tell us anything?”
A brief flash of anger touches her face. “If I knew where my son was,” she says quietly, “I assure you, I would be doing something with that information.”
“Please,” Zoe pleads, “Isn't there anything?”
“I don't - “
“Not even why he might have left?”
Emi frowns at her. Sighing, she glances over her shoulder. Juro is well and gone; “...I don't fully understand, myself,” she says softly. “...I think Juro knows. It has to do with, well...” her hand drifts down to her stomach.
Zoe's eyes follow the gesture. At once, she understands, and gasps. “You're pregnant!” She exclaims.
“Yes. But that wasn't it. I was a little worried, but Koji didn't seem upset when we told him... not until we said what we planned on naming the baby. Koichi.”
The room goes silent.
Emi's eyes skitter over the group. “Wait. Do you know - “
“We need to go,” Takuya says.
“Oh my god,” says Zoe.
“What,” says J.P. “What.”
“We need to go,” Takuya repeats, and grabs Tommy by the hand. “Guys?”
Emi doesn't try to stop them. Perhaps she realizes there isn't a point.
They stumble out of the house half-dazed, blinking against the sun.
“Koichi,” Tommy whispers, but the soft sound rings like a shot. “ - Takuya, how could they?”
J.P. is unusually solemn. “I don't think she even knew, kid.”
“But he did.”
None of them have an answer to this.
“...This gives us somewhere to start, though,” Takuya says at last.
“Does it?”
“Yeah.” Takuya looks up, squinting his eyes against the sky. “Remember? Koji was going to visit his mom... to tell her what happened to Koichi.”
“Do you think... do you think they kept talking, afterward?”
“I never asked him. But there's only one way to find out.”
“Something doesn't feel right.”
Takuya stops in the middle of the sidewalk. Zoe and Tommy stop, too. But J.P. keeps walking.
“Come on, Takuya. You've been weird since you got your spirit back. We need to hurry.”
“I'm telling you, something's not right.”
“We're in Japan,” J.P. says, annoyed now. “Come on, we're almost there.”
“I sense - “
“What's that even supposed to mean, you - “
“J.P.!” Zoe exclaims. “You should know better! Don't tell me you've already forgotten what it's like to have a spirit? Takuya is the only one who's made it to rookie so far. If he says something's wrong – listen!”
J.P. looks briefly surprised. Then, abruptly, the fight drains from him. “You're right,” he says. “I just hate being useless – we're all getting these abilities, but I don't 'sense' anything...”
“It'll happen,” says Tommy. “But for now... What is it, Takuya?”
“I don't know.” Takuya looks troubled. “Something... familiar. Really familiar. And really... dark.”
“Dark? I don't think we have anything really dark in the human world.”
“I wouldn't be too sure.”
And it does feel dark, suddenly, in an intangible way. Suddenly, Flamemon appears in the group's midst.
“Takuya!” Zoe exclaims.
J.P. and Tommy hastily move to stand in front of the digimon. “What if someone walks by, Takuya?” asks Tommy, too surprised to address the digimon by his proper name.
“It doesn't matter,” Flamemon breathes, eyes flashing emerald. “He's here.”
The sound of a blade being drawn makes them all turn.
Duskmon looks different in the dying light of these twilight hours, outside the familiar realm of the Dark Area. The red-irised eyes bulging from his chest, knees and shoulders blink slowly, as though dazed by the light.
His boots move almost silently across the ground. There is something deathly on the wind, something even the others feel, now. Perhaps something every human could feel; it might explain why the streets are strangely deserted.
In the digital-world, the Legendary Warriors only ever brought Duskmon to a stale-mate; in the end, Velgemon was only brought to his senses with the combined power of Aldamon and BeoWolfmon, who is conspicuously absent.
Bearing this in mind, the rookie-level Flamemon does the only possible thing.
He charges.
“Takuya!”
Duskmon stops walking. He waits, face blank, as Flamemon comes closer. Than, just before the rookie can strike, an oddly familiar voice announces the attack:
“Deadly Gaze.”
The eye on Duskmon's chest snaps open. A red beam flares into existence, and Flamemon rolls desperately to one side to avoid its burn.
The heat singes his fur just from proximity. A quick glance shows that none of his friends were hurt, so Flamemon looks back at Duskmon.
Who is still standing there. Bored.
“Baby Salamander!”
Unimpressed, Duskmon flicks one gleaming blade at the tiny burst of fire. It dissipates harmlessly.
“Deadly Gaze.”
Duskmon aims with his hands this time, too, sustaining the burst. Flamemon rolls around, forced into a desperate display of agility. He knows that, if Duskmon were really trying, it wouldn't be enough.
Duskmon takes a step forward.
“Spirit – Execute!”
Flamemon looks back. Tommy is holding up his cell-phone in the direction of Duskmon. There is a small beep. A sound of static.
“Pick on someone your own size,” J.P. says.
Slowly, slowly, Duskmon turns his head. He looks at the humans.
“...Or maybe... not...?”
Zoe grabs her own cell-phone. “I can do this,” she whispers. “I can! I know I can!”
It's not the phones! Flamemon wants to scream. Don't they understand – don't they realize -
“Lunar Plasma!”
Flamemon looks up just in time to see Duskmon raise his ribbed maroon sword and rush forward.
“No!”
A small green blur knocks into Flamemon from his left, and the blade sinks into the earth inches from where they fall.
“Zoe!” Flamemon exclaims.
The faerie digimon flutters off him, gasping. She has four arms, but no legs, and her insect-like wings give her the appearance of a strange, oddly beautiful bug despite the intelligent human eyes hiding behind a veil.
“I think it's Perimon,” is all she has time to say.
Duskmon is clearly displeased with this turn of events. He takes a swipe at this new nuisance – not quite a proper attack – but Perimon is quick.
“Baby Salamander! Baby Salamander!”
Flamemon's flames disappear harmlessly into Duskmon's side; he doesn't even seem to notice.
The next creature to launch itself forth goes almost unnoticed – a small digimon, pure white with coal-black eyes and tiny metal claws. It resembles an ermine, and as it slinks to Perimon's side and shoots a thin stream of ice in Duskmon's direction, a high voice yells, “Ebemimon!”
“And I'm always last,” mutters a voice. “ - GranKokuwamon!”
A spark of electricity flies off the giant pale Kokuwamon, crackling against Duskmon's armor.
“Together!”
Ice, flame, wind, and electricity spiral forth. But the attack lacks the explosive power that all of them remember. Duskmon jerks his sword again, and with a sweep of his hand dispels the attack.
They stop. This is the best they have.
A slow whisper creeps over the air, syllabic darkness crooning into their ears.
“ - My turn.”
This time, Duskmon doesn't hold back. He raises his sword and rushes at them, together. “Lunar Plasma!”
There's no time to dodge. Crimson steel flashes through the night – when did it become so dark? - and suddenly the warriors are lying on the ground, flickering, fading.
Flamemon struggles to sit up, and cannot. His skin pulses with the blue sheen of data. His code starts to rise from his body – and is that even possible, here, in this world? Can he be be stripped of himself? Or can something worse happen?
Duskmon steps up. Looks down at them.
“Who are you?” Takuya whispers. He can hear Tommy crying, human again, and J.P. is trying vainly to rise. “Who are you...”
Duskmon tilts his head, eyes cold. A flicker of something – confusion? And then he raises a hand:
“Memory Disturbance!”
“Ughh...”
“Takuya!”
“Oh, he's awake!”
“Wha - ?”
Takuya blinks.
His mother and father are beaming down at him. More sober, Shinya is off to the side, hands clutched together nervously. Shinya's eyes are red and puffy.
“Do you know what happened, Takuya? Your friends couldn't explain anything...”
Memories rush back in an instant. Yeah, I bet they couldn't.
“Where are they?” he asks instead.
“Who?”
“My friends... Were they...”
“Oh,” says his mother absently, “they came... they wanted to stay, but family only...”
“Who, Mom?”
She looks a little affronted at his tone. “A girl,” she says. “A younger boy, and someone your age... J.P?”
Takuya sags back in relief. Everyone, then.
“The doctors just want to run some tests,” his dad starts.
“No. I need to go.”
“What?! I – Takuya!”
Takuya has started to pull himself from the hospital bed; his mother pushes him back down with small but firm hands. “What do you think you're doing?” She demands.
“But I - “
“But nothing. You're going to stay right there, at least overnight. You collapsed.”
Takuya sits back, and thinks.
“...Okay,” he says, because he can say nothing else. “...But can I have my phone, at least?”
The others eventually plead and connive their way into the hospital. “What happened?”
“Duskmon went really weird,” J.P. says. “He used that move and just started staring into your eyes... we couldn't tell what was happening.”
“You didn't feel anything, did you, Takuya?” Tommy asks.
“I don't remember.”
“Then he just left,” Zoe says. “He looked so disturbed... Just like in the digital world, when Koichi was struggling to remember everything. Do you think this Duskmon is going through something like that?”
“But who could it be?” Demands J.P. “There are no more legendary warriors, not here.”
“There are those kids who came back, the ones who were with Angemon,” Tommy suggests.
“Yeah, but they never had spirits. That's different.”
Takuya shakes his head. “Look, we can think about this later. But we have more important things to worry about.”
“More important than Duskmon?” J.P. demands. “Like what?”
Tommy gets it. “Like what they were doing there in the first place – right?”
Takuya nods. “More importantly... what he was doing around the Kimura place, with Koji missing.”
Everyone freezes.
“You don't...” Zoe's face is pale. “You don't think he hurt Koji, do you?”
“I don't know. But dark and light are natural enemies, aren't they? Maybe this is the enemy we're meant to face – maybe this is why our spirits are returning to us.” Takuya shifts on the hospital bed, pressing his fingers against the starch sheets. “Look. I'll get out of here as soon as I can. Don't go against Duskmon – it's useless. But work on digivolving, and look for Koji, okay? Try to find something at the Kimura place, during the day, and... be careful.”
Kimura Sumie blinks. “Can I help you?”
“Hello. I'm sorry – I'm Zoe, this is Tommy and J.P. We're friends of your son.”
“Oh.” Sumie blinks. “I... And I don't suppose you've seen him recently, have you?”
“...No. We were hoping you had, actually.”
“I'm afraid not. It's not so unusual, though... I sometimes don't hear from him for days at a time...” Sumie stares off into the distance.
Zoe waits, because it seems like she's about to go on, but Sumie says nothing else. “...Ms. Kimura,” she prompts, causing the woman to start, “I was wondering if it would be possible for us to take a look around?”
“A look around?” comes the blank echo.
It's a strange question. Zoe is aware of this. She twists a lock of her own hair, tugging at it nervously. J.P. saves her.
...But not very tactfully.
“Look, can we just see Koichi's room, maybe?”
Eyes widening, Tommy jabs an elbow into J.P.'s gut. The older boy winces, but just glares down at him, unrepentant, and hisses, “Well? Were we supposed to dance around it?”
Sumie doesn't seem to be offended, even if she still seems a little puzzled. “Well... I suppose it can't hurt anything. If you really think it might help find my son... go ahead. Just a few minutes,” she adds.
“Of course,” Zoe says gratefully, sending a quick glare to J.P. He just smiles sweetly at her, then at Kimura Sumie.
Tommy stays by the door while Zoe and J.P. find Koichi's room, chattering inanely and clearly trying to buy them more time by distracting the woman. Zoe wonders privately if this is necessary. Her gaze is already distant, looking ahead at something far and invisible; perhaps Koichi's death had that affect on her, she thinks.
Koichi's room has the look of use; perhaps Koji's influence, if he has visited often. Hope rises. Perhaps there is something here, after all?
She and J.P. part to look around. J.P. starts to rifle through sheets of paper, shaking away loose pencils and charcoal sticks. Zoe puts aside tattered books, looking for anything unusual. Anything that says, Koji.
She finds nothing.
“Hey, look at this,” J.P. interrupts.
“What?”
J.P. holds out a paper. “This... the charcoal looks pretty fresh, right? And look at the picture... It's a cemetery.” The kanji for Aoyama Cemetery are clearly visible on a sign in the picture.
“That's morbid.”
“Yeah, but think. If this is recent – if Koji drew this, what if that's where Koichi is? He might visit there, right?”
“Huh. It's worth a try... And we don't have anything else. We can ask Ms. Kimura.”
“Let's go.”
“First let's make sure we didn't miss anyth - “
“Guys! Guys!”
J.P. snaps his head around. “That's Tommy!”
They clutch their useless phones by instinct as they rush for the front of the house. But Duskmon isn't present. There's just Tommy, kneeling on the floor over the trembling form of Kimura Sumie.
“I'm fine,” she says. Her voice is coming in quick gasps. “I'm...”
She breathes in sharply, clutching at her chest.
“Call an ambulance!” Tommy yells.
Well, the phones are good for that, at least.
The ambulances take an eternity to arrive. After some brief discussion where it is essentially established that the children know nothing, Sumie is taken away.
“Should we have gone with her?” Zoe asks anxiously.
“No,” J.P. says, more firmly. “We can't waste any time. Not with Koji missing.”
Tommy takes a shaky breath. His face is white with stress. “Did you guys find anything?”
He doesn't hold much hope for the picture. But he nods, anyway. “All right. Let's go.”
Takuya sighs, picking at the sheets of his hospital bed. He hates this. He should be with the others, searching for Koji, but the real-world has a different set of rules. He can't simply do as he likes; here, he is still a child, and still subject to the laws of the world... and his parents.
Who, right now, are not present. Takuya worries at his lip, glancing at the open doorway. Nurses and doctors bustle by in the halls. He wonders if he could get away with leaving. Oh, his parents would be furious, no doubt, but he could do it. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, they say.
As he contemplates this, a flash of familiar dark hair is swept by in the hallway, wheeled through on a gurney. Doctors are shouting orders. As the noise dies and fades, it takes Takuya a moment to register the sight.
“Ms. Kimura!” He shouts.
A nurse pokes her head inside the room curiously. Ignoring her, Takuya shoves himself from the bed, swaying slightly.
“Excuse me,” says the nurse, stepping in. “Are you supposed to - “
Takuya shoves past her, already concerned with more pressing matters. He takes a deep breath. “Ms. Kimura!”
Aoyama cemetery is beautiful even in winter. “This is a good place for Koichi,” says Zoe quietly.
“If he is here,” Tommy says.
“I bet he is. It just feels like it, doesn't it? Like you can feel his presence...”
“Don't get all soft-eyed on me now,” grumbles J.P. He sniffs a little, and turns so they can't see his face. “Anyway, we can try to visit Koichi later. We're looking for Koji now.”
“And Duskmon,” Tommy adds.
“Yeah... But where do we start?”
After some contemplation, it seems easiest just to ask one of the workers. Indeed, the first worker they find tells them that a dark-haired boy who 'often' wore a blue bandanna came by almost every day, and directs them to the site.
“I should warn you, though,” he tells them, “It might be a little disturbing.”
“Disturbing?”
“The grave has been desecrated.”
'Desecrated' turns out to be a... mild word.
“This isn't 'desecrated',” J.P. says, once the man has left them. “This thing has been blown to bits.”
“...You... You think it was Duskmon?” Tommy asks quietly, staring at the deep scorch marks in the earth, the shattered stone.
Before anyone can answer, a shadow falls over the four. As though the sun were blotted out, mist starts to coil over the cemetery.
And now, none of them need an answer.
Ebemimon dodges behind the nearest monument as GranKokuwamon takes the place of J.P., holding his ground. Perimon flutters in place, trying vainly to blow away the enshrouding mist.
“We know you're here!” GranKokuwamon says. “Don't be a coward!”
“Where's our friend?” Perimon demands.
Duskmon raises his sword. It gleams red, shining through the fog.
“Alright, then,” Perimon mutters. “Perilous Wind!”
The twisting spiral of wind is batted away with a careless swipe of Duskmon's sword. GranKokuwamon looks over at Ebemimon; the small ermine digimon takes the hint, diving out from his hiding-spot and taking shelter by the mechanical-bug's side.
Together, they combine their attacks into a blast of ice and electricity. This, too, has no apparent effect.
“There's only three of us,” Perimon shouts. “We have to run!”
Duskmon takes a step forward.
“I don't know if running is an option!” Ebeminon yells.
Duskmon knows these enemies. The one he serves led him to their voices, muffled but distinct through the shadows of the world. But Duskmon would have known them anywhere. When they move, their footprint resonates upon the world. They resonate like him. He could not fail to identify himself, surely.
(He said as much to the one he serves, but the shining one only laughed. That is alright. The one he serves can be difficult to understand, but Duskmon does not need to understand to obey).
The enemies are small and fragile before him. Their fighting makes vague memories start to stir... but these, too, are irrelevant. Only the present matters.
Ebemimon slides stomach-first on the ground, and Duskmon observes clinically as the tiny rookie approaches, comes forward, and rockets into his abdomen.
Ebemimon bounces off with a soft 'oof'.
Duskmon shifts his stance.
“Deadly Gaze.”
Ebemimon and Perimon cry out as they're thrown backward. GranKokuwamon launches himself forward.
“Stop that!”
“Lunar Plasma.”
One slice of Duskmon's blade leaves the insect on the ground, shimmering and flickering with shards of data.
Easy. Something stirs in Duskmon's mind. This is the part where he does... something. He can see the glimmer of spirits rising from the children... but what does he do with them? What does...
“Pyro Tornado!”
Duskmon falls to his side in a blast of flame, stumbling.
The sight that meets his eyes is momentarily unfamiliar, but a name matches with the face quickly enough; Agunimon. The Warrior of Flame has arrived, and digivolved.
“Agunimon!” Perimon yells. “Did you find Koji?”
“No,” Agunimon calls, bleak. “His mother's dead – Kimura Sumie is dead. We're on our own, guys...”
Duskmon stills.
“Hey, what's he doing? Guys?”
Kimura Sumie.
Dead?
When a human dies, yes, it is like... like...
Duskmon lets his eyes linger over the damaged graves around him. Dead, he thinks. Ashes and pieces, immobile. Non-functioning. Nothing left.
Kimura Sumie.
His vision is red. The enemy, Agunimon, is starting toward Duskmon with flaming fists raised into the air. And Duskmon, full of rage, leaps.
Changes.
Shifts.
“You've got to be kidding me,” breathes GranKokuwamon.
Velgemon screeches as he dives talons-first at Agunimon. The warrior of flame leaps to the right, rolling hurriedly in a rush to avoid this attack. Duskmon was enough of an impediment without Koji's presence; Velgemon, in their current state, seems surely insurmountable.
A memory comes to Agunimon.
Koji once told him that retreat is sometimes the only choice. And Takuya had called him a coward. Had said that together they could overcome anything, but -
But. They are not together.
Koji is gone.
“Run,” he says.
And the others turn and stare.
“Didn't you hear me?” He breathes. “ - Run!”
And they do.
Velgemon follows them at a steady pace, not flapping his wings. He has the lazy intensity of a vulture, and the surety of a predator whose prey may as well be dead.
A low, almost languid hum fills the air.
“Hurry!” Ebemimon cries.
“Dark Obliteration.”
- The destruction is quiet.
One moment, Agunimon sees his friends on either side of him, the bare trees of Aoyama all around, the solemn graves. The next, he is dizzy; crushed in an endless abyss. In the interminable breath where he floats through this darkness, he is vaguely startled to look ahead, and think:
This is still the cemetery.
And, also: the cemetery is gone.
And then he is sinking, and thinking nothing at all, with only the red of Velgemon's eyes to light the way.
It is anticlimactic, when the angel arrives.
He comes from the ground, from the distortion Velgemon has opened in Aoyama cemetery. His brightness and beauty illuminates the dark places of the world, and he is blinding.
And after the angel collects the free-standing data from the slumped warriors, they rouse slowly. Children again, they cower together on the ground, and look up at him like frightened petitioners.
“We purified you,” Zoe whispers. “You were light...”
“But what is light can so easily be touched by the darkness,” Lucemon sighs. “Look at your own friend, after all.”
They seem puzzled. Angry. Velgemon hisses.
“For, you see, data is never fully destroyed. You did not think it was so easy – that you could actually defeat me? I remembered myself eventually, as fragments of myself were returned to me... it was not, of course, an easy task. The lesser angels tried to hide my true self. The knowledge of who I really am. But I prevailed, in the end, as I always do, for they are weak still...”
“Ophanimon will never allow this!” J.P. shouts.
“Unless it has escaped your notice – she already has. Your world is now my utopia... But first. I must secure my reign, and be certain the legendary warriors never arise again. Velgemon?”
In that moment, Velgemon understands.
In a swirl of visible shadow, the tainted Warrior of Darkness is replaced by a small human child. It is this lost figure who slowly approaches the smilingly benevolent digimon standing before the warriors.
Lucemon flutters his arching wings, letting himself hover and look down at his supplicant. He tilts his head, sighing at something only he can see. It is a sigh almost of pity. “The grief and despair in your heart gave me the opening I needed,” Lucemon murmurs.
The child of dark and light is silent. He looks back at his once-friends, broken, splayed on the ground like the crumbled statues of a lost age, as they stare up at him in sudden horror.
“Koji,” Takuya implores.
“Will I be able to see him again,” The boy asks. “...My brother?”
A small smile curves over the angel's lips. “Yes. Forever and ever.”
Koji nods, then. “Alright.”
Lucemon spreads his wings, bright and glorious against a red sky. He reaches out to touch the boy's chest, and the Warrior of Light almost imagines he can see his brother as he dies, reaching out for him through the darkness.