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Kyo huffed as the gate took its sweet time opening.
Some Digimon were harder to track than others, sure, but this one hadn’t been anything special.
Kaito could’ve handled it.
There was no reason to call him in every time something slipped containment.
Honestly, what was he, stray control?
The portal finally snapped shut behind them.
Kyo turned automatically toward Murasamemon—
—and stopped.
His partner was frozen.
Not alert.
Not tense.
Just… staring.
That alone was enough to make Kyo’s blood run cold.
Kyo followed Murasamemon’s line of sight.
And felt his brain stall.
A civilian stood a few steps away.
A guy, maybe twenty, holding grocery bags so full they bowed outward. His eyes were wide, his grip shaking, knuckles white.
Shit.
A witness.
Kyo’s hand twitched toward his blade.
If the Ministry found out—
The man’s gaze shifted.
Not to Kyo.
To Murasamemon.
There was no fear there.
No panic.
Just open, baffled fascination.
Murasamemon blinked back at him.
Kyo opened his mouth to order an attack—
—and the grocery bags split.
Fruit and vegetables spilled everywhere. Noodles skidded across the pavement.
A carton of milk tipped over.
An orange rolled to a stop beside Kyo’s boot.
Everyone stared at it.
The man sighed.
“Great,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now how am I supposed to carry all this for dinner?”
…That was it?
That was his reaction?
Kyo blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The man crouched to gather his things, glancing up only when he noticed the orange hadn’t moved.
“Hey,” he said casually. “Can you grab that for me, furry?”
Murasamemon froze even harder.
He pointed at himself, claws hovering uncertainly.
Kyo felt his entire worldview tilt sideways.
“…Don’t,” Kyo hissed—
Too late.
Murasamemon carefully picked up the orange and handed it over with exaggerated care.
“Thanks,” the man said brightly, smiling.
Then—without hesitation—he reached out and patted Murasamemon on the head.
Murasamemon short-circuited.
Color flooded his face.
His tail twitched.
He stood there like he’d just been struck by lightning.
Kyo’s jaw dropped.
The man waved, gathered the rest of his groceries, and walked off like he hadn’t just pet an Ultimate-level Digimon in the middle of the street.
Silence settled.
“…What,” Kyo said finally, “… just happened?”
Murasamemon didn’t answer.
He was still red.